Sword and Shadow
by Gatewalker
Summary: Based on the events of Fire Emblem 7. After the defeat of Nergal, Guy and Matthew find their paths to be bound as if by fate, no matter where it is they go. Rated T for minor language and combat scenes.
1. Celebrating in Silence

Chapter 1-Celebrating in Silence

The dragon was dead, and with it Nergal's mad schemes. A great weight had been lifted from the shoulders of those who fought to save, not only their own nations, but the very world itself. This was a day of victory, a day of celebration, and a day of release. Taking over for Eliwood, Hector had declared a rest and a party at the Dragon's Gate, and each survivor of this long and grueling battle tried to relax and savor their victory in their own fashion.

Lord Eliwood, to no one's surprise, had confined himself to his tent for the entire day. Considering all that had transpired, he needed the time to breathe, rest and mourn, and nobody would begrudge him that. To some watching eyes, it was noted with interest just how much time the fair Pegasus Knight Fiora spent loitering around the Lord's tent. Finally, Isadora convinced Marcus to allow Fiora to relieve him of guard duty, as there was simply no chasing her off.

The Lady Lyndis spent her time in the company of a certain red cavalier, both mourning a shared loss, and cherishing the prospects of life that still lay before them. This left the burden of responsibility on Hector, but he surprised all by bearing it without complaint. His friends had done their shares, and he would see a mountain tore up from it's roots before he would deny them their rest. If this meant that he would bear the mantle of leadership alone from hereon in, then so be it.

And the others were content to see to their own affairs, spend time with their friends and lovers, and remember their fallen comrades. It was in this manner that a sudden revelation came to the swordfighter Guy of Sacae. He had no real friends in this army. His fellow swordsmen, Raven, Karel, Harken and Karla either saw him as competition or simply another sword. His fellow Sacaens were no better, only Lyn and Rath, who each had their own things to do, were warm towards him at all. Looking around, it came to him that there were only two men in this entire mess that he might at all consider friends, and both were conspicuously absent…

* * *

The sounds of the celebration began to fade behind Matthew as he left the clearing. Let the others celebrate, he was in no mood for gaiety. The young spy's thoughts were uncharacteristically dark as he walked on, caring little for wherever he may be going as the only thing he could see were visions of a red haired corpse, struck down by a man he was now forced to call ally.

He did not know how much time had passed before a quiet voice snapped him out of his reverie, "So it would seem that even hardened spies can shed tears."

Resheathing his daggers, having drawn them the moment he heard a voice, Matthew sighed heavily, "Dammit Grant, you know better than to sneak up on me like that."

Grant could only chuckle, "If I'm not mistaken, you were the one approaching me. I've been here for hours." Sliding over on the rock he was occupying, the large tactician gestured for Matthew to have a seat, should he want it, "I'd offer a coin for your thoughts, but it's not hard for me to guess where those tears would come from. You were really in love, weren't you?"

Wiping his eyes clear with the inside of his cloak, Matthew slumped against a nearby tree and began to laugh softly, "You don't miss much, do you? But I suppose that's your job, isn't it?" Picking up a couple of acorns, he began to toss them back and forth, a simple exercise to keep his mind in the present. He could not afford to lose himself like that again. What if it had been a morph they had missed that had noticed him? Or even Jaffar seeking to…no. Matthew shook his head, trying to make himself believe that Jaffar was no longer his enemy, without much success. Turning his attention back to Grant, he cocked his head and decided to ask a question of his own, "So why did you leave? I needed some time alone, but you've got a bunch of friends to be with back there, why'd you leave them?"

As he often did when asked a personal question, Grant was silent for a moment while he removed his spectacles and wiped them clean, thinking how best to answer while he cleaned them. After a minute or two, he redonned the eyewear and simply shook his head, "Tacticians…don't have friends, Matthew. You should know that. We're much like, say, spies, in that regard. We cannot afford to get close to anyone as we never know when we will have to order them to their deaths."

Matthew could only scoff, "Hah! You're good enough that you shouldn't have to worry about that. We have tons of strategists in Ostia, and not one of them could even hope to compete against you."

Closing his eyes, Grant shook his head again, fighting back a tear or two of his own. "Tell that to Sain and Lowen. Or even Lord Wallace. Or Farina. I'm sure they'd be quite willing to disagree with you on that account."

"Losing only four soldiers in a war against someone like Nergal isn't bad at all. I bet nobody else could have even won, much less with so few losses. You did the best you could, and nobody could have asked for better." Remembering the incidents, Matthew had to try and defend Grant against…well, himself. "Besides, Sain and Wallace weren't your fault. Sain broke formation, and he almost got me killed too, remember? And Wallace didn't tell anyone he was injured. A lot of that dark magic doesn't leave physical scars, you know. It's his own fault, but he _did_ hold the passage long enough for us to win. It's the way that old bull wanted to go."

Leaning back to stare at the heavens, Grant opened his eyes, "And what of Lowen and Farina? And Sain should have had enough trust in me to hold to my orders, even if it didn't look like a good idea. I don't always have time to explain my plans."

Having nothing to say, Matthew could only sit in silence with the tactician, each contemplating their own losses and failings, and each looking ahead to a future of uncertainties. Grant was right, spies and tacticians don't have friends, they have allies and subordinates at best. Perhaps that is what allowed Matthew to understand him a bit better than the others could.

The two sat until nearly dawn, listening to the distant sounds of revelry from their camp. But neither Grant nor Matthew spoke another word. They only sat there, celebrating in silence.

_

* * *

_

(Author's Note: Chapter 1 is mainly just introducing the tactician, as well as geting a feeling for how I'm going to write Mathew and Guy. Any comments on how I portray them would be most welcome.)

Author's Note #2(Added Aug 2010): Wow, reading back over this after so long...this is pretty lame. For new readers, don't worry, it gets better! I promise!


	2. Breaking Camp

Chapter 2-Breaking Camp

The next morning…

No matter how late he was up the night before, Guy always rose at false dawn. It was a talent that many of the others envied, and one that Sir Marcus flat told his troops to start emulating. So despite only getting two hours of sleep, the young swordsman was still the first person to be up and about. Starting on the morning duties for his area, Guy was about halfway through heating up breakfast when he noticed a familiar shadow slinking up towards the campsite. Without even turning around, he called out to his friend, "Hey, Matthew! I was looking for you yesterday, where'd you get off to?"

Bleary eyed, the rogue finished dragging himself up towards the campsite and plopped down next to the fire before answering, "Sorry, I needed some time to myself." Knowing that Guy would only start asking uncomfortable questions if he let him, Matthew started asking questions instead, to steer the conversation away from his own activities, "So we've got meat for breakfast today? That's a nice change. Rabbit or pigeon?"

Guy gave his friend a funny look, "Pigeon. You mean to tell me that you can't tell the difference between rabbit and pigeon?" Something was definitely bothering Matthew. Maybe it was just the hour, but the spy usually woke only shortly after Guy himself did, so he didn't think that could be it.

Matthew shrugged, "Not when you cook it." Seeing the Sacaen's scrutiny, he grinned rather irreverently and snatched a piece of the more done meat, trying to seem more awake and alert than he was.

"Tch! If you don't like it, then why do you keep hanging out over here?" Guy gestured off towards the area around Lord Hector's tent as he turned the meat, "I'm sure Serra will have something for a city boy like you over in the Ostian camp." Pausing, Guy shot Matthew a serious look for a moment, "Seriously, why do you stay at the Sacaen camp instead of the Ostian one? You are an Ostian spy, after all."

Matthew shrugged again as he grabbed another piece of meat, _Because lord Oswin doesn't trust you lot, that's why._ "Serra's cooking isn't any more edible than this, and at least you don't complain about having to do camp chores."

Guy rolled his eyes, but he could understand. Serra was enough to get on anyone's nerves. Not like Pricilla, who was everything than any man could ever dream of in a…

"You...ah, still there buddy?" Guy blinked and saw Matthew's hand waving in front of his face. "You sure you got enough sleep? Here, have some pigeon. It's tasteless, but it's still food." The rogue's tone of mock-concern and the twinkle in his eye told quite plainly that he knew exactly what made Guy space out, and he only laughed as Guy shoved him away, muttering vague threats under his breath.

But as Matthew opened his mouth to continue the taunting, he was interrupted by Rath riding up with a message, "Matthew, the nobles are all talking in the Ostian camp. Lord Hector wants you there."

As Matthew nodded and got to his feet, Guy couldn't help but smirk, seeing a chance to turn the tide, "Well, looks like you won't be able to avoid Serra by hiding up here after all. Have fun."

His little victory was short lived, as the Sacaen knew he was in trouble from the moment his friend smiled. "Oh, will do. All the nobles, huh? That's good, I'll be sure to let Lady Pricilla know that you haven't been sleeping well. I'm sure she can help with that." With a wink, Matthew dashed off for the Ostian camp, leaving an embarrassed Guy to try and sputter out a refusal while Rath simply shook his head.

* * *

Announcing his presence by clearing his throat, Matthew walked into the main tent that had served as their war room during this war, causing the current conversations to cease as he did. Inwardly, a dark chuckle ran through his mind, _Typical. Nobody's comfortable talking in front of a known spy. Doesn't matter that they were just talking to the very person I report to. _

As he approached the lords, it was the cheerful voice of Lady Lyndis that shook such dark thoughts from his mind. "Good morning Matthew. You know, you and Grant really should have told someone before heading off into the woods like that. When Kent mentioned that he hadn't seen you, I started to worry."

Matthew smiled, "Sorry about that, Lady Lyn. I just wasn't much in the mood for celebrating." _Well, nobody except those Sacaens. Not one of 'em has an drop of guile in their entire body. Poor Lady Lyn though, that'll really bite her in the ass when she becomes the Marquesse. _Putting thoughts of Caelin's future aside for the time being, the spy turned his attention to his liege. "Anyway, you summoned me, m'lord?"

Hector, seeming to have gotten about as much sleep at Matthew himself, nodded, "Yeah, I did. Look, you heard what Nergal said, right? About my brother?"

Matthew nodded, "That I did, m'lord. So, this means you'll be taking over as marquess?" Truth be told, Matthew knew about this long before Nergal spilled the beans. Almost every message that came for anyone in the camp got intercepted by Matthew, so he had read the news even before Oswin. It wouldn't do to make that little tidbit common knowledge though, so he had to act like it was news to him too. Thankfully, acting was something that any spy worth his pay is quite good at.

With a sigh of frustration and disgust, Hector shook his head, "Not right away. Not until after we at least have a funeral. Actually, I want the word of my brother's death to be kept quiet as long as possible. That's where you come in."

Matthew was expecting something like this, "Me, m'lord?"

Hector scowled, "Yes you! You need to find out who, outside of this tent, knows, and convince them to keep it to themselves."

Mathew calmly raised an eyebrow, "Surely, you don't…"

"Not like that!" Hector shook his head, letting out yet another grunt of frustration, "Just talk to them. Tell them why I don't want the whole world to know. We can't let news of this reach the other countries until Lycia is securely ready for the trouble it will bring."

Eliwood nodded, "As you know, Pherae and Caelin will remain loyal to Ostia, despite Lord Uther's passing, and Santaruz likely will as well, but,"

Matthew started counting off on his fingers, "That leaves Laus, Araphen, Kathaleet, Tuscana, Worde, Ciaran, Thria and Tania. Considering that we trashed him right in front of his own castle, not to mention killed his old man, I don't think 'Lord' Eric's going to be very co-operative."

Hector scowled again, "Considering that he's the son of a traitor who tried to take over Lycia, and tried to kill us, Eric will need to start toeing the line real fast, or Laus will need a new Marquess."

Stepping forward, Sir Marcus had to interject, "My apologies Lord Hector, but even as the heir to Ostia, you don'thave the authority to strip another Marquess of his title." Seeing the rather angry look forming on the young lord's face, the old paladin hastily added, "And though I have no love, or even respect, for young Eric, I would advise against using violence against him. That would only make the other lords turn against you, seeing you as an angry child."

Marcus' words hit Hector like a cold slap in the face. Breathing deeply, he began to calm down. "You're right, of course. But that doesn't mean I can't put a bit of pressure on him. I'll just have to learn how to play politics." His disgust for "playing politics" was quite clear in his voice, but it seemed that Hector was serious about doing it. Mathew could only marvel at how much he had grown and matured since that day they left Ostia.

Seeing an opportunity to get out while the getting was good, Matthew cleared his throat and bowed to Hector, "Well, if that's all you need me for m'lord, I'll get right on that order." Without waiting for a response, he slipped out, and looked around, remembering who all was at the final battle, where Nergal spilled the beans. _Let's see, there were the Lords, of course. I was there, and so was Guy. Fiora and Kent too. And Lord Oswin, but he won't talk. I doubt that Canas guy will either, but I'll talk to him just to make sure. Oh yeah, and Dame Vaida. That's not gonna be fun. _

* * *

After Matthew had left, Guy hung his head and offered Rath some meat, "It's pigeon, not rabbit."

Rath accepted the meat, and gave Guy an odd look, "I know. I smelled it cooking on my way in. Do you think I can't tell pigeon from rabbit?"

Realizing that he'd stuck his foot in it again, Guy shook his head, "No, no, nothing like that. It's just, well, Matthew said he couldn't tell, and…"

"And that one lies as easily as he draws breath." Swinging down off of his horse, Rath folded himself down next to his comrade and helped himself to breakfast, "I can't see how you can stand him. He has few morals, less honor, and no pride. He claims to be a thief, but is really a spy, and fights like an assassin. He knows only enough of our people and our ways to exploit us to his ends, and…"

"And he is still my friend, no matter what else he is. He isn't one of us, so we can't be angry if he doesn't live by our rules. You're friends with that Caelin archer, right? Do you expect him to have Sacaen pride and honor?"

Rath shook his head, "Will is different. He is honest and kind. Matthew is a treacherous liar. How can you not see that?"

"Why can't you see past that? Everything he does is for the same reason we fight. He just does it a different way. He's still a good guy."

Seeing that trying to help Guy was pointless, Rath stood up and swung back into the saddle, "We have orders from Lord Hector to break camp as soon as possible. He doesn't want to be on the Dread Isle a moment longer than necessary. Let the others here know, I'll go tell everyone else."

As Rath rode off, Guy got up and whistled that breakfast was ready. Within an hour, camp was broken and ready to go. And the army set off to meet up with Fargus once again, and finally put this business behind them.

_

* * *

_

(Author's Note: And now we see more of Guy. Still trying to get a feel for how to write these guys, as well as a few othes who may or may not be making appearances later on. The real plot should start to surface around chapter 4, as chapter 3 will be a test of just how well I can write battle scenes. Fun!)


	3. Unexpected Attack

_Author's Note: Whew this one's big! In fact, it's got more words than the first two combined. Now you can see why it took so long to write. Battle scenes are always wierd with me, becuase I try to desribe it from every important angle, not just from the eyes of the main characters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 3-Unexpected Attack

Matthew shivered and pulled his cloak close about him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the bitter cold wind of a Valor evening. _Curse this damnable island, and it's ridiculous weather! Fine in the morning, hotter than Nabata at midday, and colder than the devil's own underpants at night! I don't know how those mages do it, walking around in this freeze like it's nothing more than a Caelin spring. _Surely enough, as the thief glanced over to where the Etruirans were riding, Erk and Lord Pent had both offered Lady Louise their cloaks, and both seemed not the least disturbed by the cold.

As if echoing Matthew's thoughts, Guy just shook his head while staring at the two mages, "How are those two not freezing?"

"I dunno. Why not go ask them?"

Much to Matthew's surprise, Guy shrugged and turned his horse towards Lord Pent, "Okay, I will."

As Guy rode over to ask his question, Matthew just shook his head and pulled his cloak even tighter about him. _Only that guy would actually do something like that. Just ride up and ask a lord whatever he pleases, like he doesn't give a rat's left buttcheek about rank or manners. Sure, I'm pretty lax about that, but it's like he doesn't even remember that it's there._A sudden burst of wind interrupted Matthew's musings, almost ripping his cloak away from him and flying it off into the woods. Taking a moment to more securely fasten the collar straps, the young spy muttered a stream of inaudible curses into the wind. _To the last frozen layer of hell with this wind! That's where it came from, no doubt, and that's where it can go! _

_

* * *

_

"So it's just a matter of discipline then?" Guy was amazed at what he heard. Magic had always been fascinating, if a bit scary, but this was just incredible.

Erk nodded, "Yes. Much like how a good mage can ignore the heat or power from an enemy's magical attack, he can also ignore the effects of natural energies. This cold is easily within my tolerance, and Lord Pent could even ignore being struck by a bolt of natural lightning, which is much stronger than magical lightning, if you didn't know."

Pent laughed, "Erk flatters me overly much. Even I would not enjoy getting hit by lightning, though I believe I could survive it."

Louise laughed as well, "Of course you would enjoy it dear, it's something you haven't done yet. Well, until you noticed that it had destroyed all of your books, youwould." Looking over at Guy, the lady smiled, "It's also that we are more used to this kind of weather than those from Lycia or Sacae. The Illians are handling it just as well as we are, and besides for Canas, they aren't even mages. Just look at little Florina up there."

Looking up, Guy simply marveled at how the pegasus knights could wear such…small…outfits while flying in this weather. The only sign that she was cold at all were her constant movements, zigzagging all over the place. _She doesn't normally fly like that. She never makes turns that fast when on scout duty, and she never flies that low. Something's wrong._ Narrowing his eyes, Guy tried to get a better view of Florina's movements, trying to figure out what was wrong, and why she hadn't called out yet if there was something.

Noticing Guy's intent gaze, Erk also turned his eyes upwards. "Is there something up there?"

Still unsure, Guy decided not to take any chances, "I think so. Something's wrong here, sound the alarm."

Nodding, Erk wasted no time in flicking his hand towards the sky, sending up a pillar of sparkling red lights while readying his tome for battle.

Not wanting to waste any time either, Guy kicked his horse forward, riding up ahead of the army. If something was waiting there, he was going to root it out before it caught anyone else.

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* * *

_

"How sad that our first duty back in Lycia should be to attend so many funerals," the tall, green robed man rode comfortably beside the Caelin forces, although the topic of conversation was anything but comfortable. "First, a proper funeral for Lord Elbert in Pherae, then on to Caelin for Sain and Lord Wall…hmm?"

"Grant? What," about to ask her friend what was wrong, Lyn saw the lights from the corner of her eye, and needed no further explanation. "That's Erk's signal! Everyone, get ready!"

Even before their Lady gave the order, the fighters of Caelin were scrambling into battle formations. Kent had drawn his blade and moved forward with Wil holding on to his saddle strap, waiting to pass a good spot to jump off, take position and snipe. Lyn herself began to dash forward when she heard a burst form Grant's trumpet that stopped her. _Lords to the rear. Grant doesn't want me fighting this time._

Grant had already begun sounding orders, in his own way. Notes from his instrument told those who could not see him where they were supposed to be, and the clear notes of a trumpet could be heard even over the chaos of a pitched battle. As she held her ground, Lyn saw Vadia and Legault already coming in to receive more detailed instructions, and she could hear Hector not far behind them. Even with the threat of battle, she had to chuckle quietly as she imagined Hector's inevitable outburst…

"Grant! What do you mean 'Lords to the rear'?" Right on cue, Hector stormed in, already not happy with this strategy. "I still have Armads, and if I can chop down that bastard Nergal and that dragon with it, I can handle whatever's around here!"

Ignoring Hector for the time being Grant laid out his plan to Legault, "Take the lords and their retinues off to the east, then circle around and meet us up near that broken rock we passed on the way here, do you remember it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep to the cover of the forest, between that and this fog, they'll be hard pressed to see you, and have Heath fly a fake scouting path along the same lines, but far enough away that anyone trying to find you through him will just get lost. Take Rath and Rebecca to pick off their flyers and anyone who gets too close. You have the command until we regroup. Understood?"

Legault nodded, "Of course. I'm not really keen on using Heath as bait, but I'm sure you know what you're doing."

Vaida, already knowing her role, snorted, "Hah! That idiot will be fine. I'll be drawing all the arrow fire."

Nodding again, Legault bowed to Lyn and Hector, "Shall we, then? I'll go collect master Eliwood, if you two would be so kind as to get your people together and follow along."

Still not happy, Hector looked back to Grant, only to see the tactician already swinging up on Umbriel's back behind the scary woman. "Dammit Grant! I was talking to you! Gah!"

"Hector, come on! Do you want to be left behind?" Lyn was already off after Kent, and Legault was halfway to the Pheraens by now. Hector just scowled and stormed back towards his men, having no other real options.

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* * *

_

Again Florina opened her mouth to scream, and again no sound came out. Keeping low, she desperately tried to shake the aim of the archers hiding below her, and prayed for the spell of the druid's staff to wear off. She could only hope that those behind her would figure out that there was an ambush, as she could not scream to warn them.

A sudden flash of light seen from the corner of her eye, and the sound of Grant's trumpet confirmed her hopes, but her joy turned to terror when the druid below her lowered his arm and gave his men the signal to fire…

_

* * *

_

_What the hell is that fool doing?_ Matthew raced after Guy's horse as it disappeared into the foliage. As he ran, he heard Grant's commands following him, _Lords to the rear, swords advance, magi advance, Pherae retreat, Caelin retreat, Ostia…retreat._ Pausing for a moment upon hearing that last, Matthew cursed and then kept running onward, _Sorry Grant, I'm a sword today. This game of hide and seek was made for guys like me. I'm sure that's what you meant anyway, right?_

A sudden, sharp whinny of pain from deeper in the woods caused any doubts about his decision to fly from the spy's mind. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Matthew only hoped he would arrive in time…

A horse's cry of pain echoed throughout the forest as the morph buried it's lance in the beast's side. But before the poor creature fell, and took it's rider to the ground with it, the man on it's back had vaulted clear, landing in a crouch and immediately launched himself at the armored thing that had attacked him.

_

* * *

_

Moving far faster than the morph could ever hope to, Guy dove and rolled between it's legs, coming to a skidding stop on the other side and smashed his silver sword into the back of the morph's knee. The sharp blade, driven by the practiced skill and lethal speed of a master swordsman, sliced cleanly through armor, flesh and bone, coming out the other side and causing the giant morph to fall to the ground, suddenly short one leg.

But even as he stood from one kill, Guy could see others appearing in the woods around him, unseen and unheard until they got too near him for his comfort. "I'm surrounded. Uh, would any of you guys minds telling me how you surrounded me?"

The morphs, of course, were silent. They advanced towards their trapped target, slowly and in unison, giving him no break to escape through.

_Ugh, three generals, a swordmaster, a trooper and a sage. That swordmaster's got to go first. Here goes!_ Feinting a lunge at the druid, Guy quickly pivoted on his left foot, swinging his blade back around in a wide arc towards the swordmaster. The morph parried the first blow, but with speed greater than that of any mere puppet, Guy had already pulled his blade back for a second stroke, thrusting the silver sword deep into the puppet's gut, and ripping it out the side.

As the swordmaster fell, Guy spun towards the trooper. But the nomad was already upon him, the hooves of it's black haired, golden eyed horse coming down and knocking the Sacaen to the ground. As the horse reared for another blow, the nearby chanting of an elfire spell, and the clanking of three generals readying to strike told Guy that he needed to move faster than he had ever moved before.

Throwing himself to the side, Guy felt the heat of the sage's attack, but steeled himself against it as he rolled to his feet, and spun to finish off the nomad before he could cause any more trouble, only to find his target dead on his horse, a dagger buried to the hilt in his face.

A second later, Matthew rushed into view, sliding past a general's swing and pulling his dagger from the nomad's face before coming to a stop next to his ally. "You're getting slow! Come on, I've got the clankers on the right, you take what's left!"

The odds evened, Guy grinned and nodded. Nothing could stop the two of them together! Without another word spoken, Guy yelled a battle cry and lunged for the sage, determined to finish his foes before Matthew.

_

* * *

_

Viewing the battle from high above on Umbriel's back, Grant sounded a few last minute changes in orders, then lowered his trumpet. "And that's that. Now it's our turn. I assume the Delphi Shield is still strapped firmly to Umbriel's underside?"

Vaida snorted, "Do you take me for a fool? Of course it is, I never remove it except to clean him." Looking out for archers to distract, the wyvern lord grimaced at Florina's antics up ahead. "Did that child not hear the order for Caelin to retreat, or is she just looking to die?"

Narrowing his eyes, Grant looked towards Florina, "No, I think she heard. Those are pegasi evasive maneuvers, she's in trouble. Ten gold says there's archers over there."

Not needing the order, Vaida immediately guided Umbriel toward Florina, "You're probably right, but I see no arrows. She's moving like they're firing at her, so where are the arrows?"

Nodding, Grant pulled a vulnerary pot from his satchel and got ready to toss it to Florina, "That is the question. Move under her. Not even Umbriel can carry three humans and a pegasus, so we'll play the roll of shield, give them something else to shoot at." In only a second more, the wyvern and it's riders had swept under Florina, shielding her from the attack below. "Your eyes are better than mine, what's down there?"

Vaida looked below her, the trained vision of a wyvern rider piercing through the fog covering the forest, "Six archers and a druid, morphs, by the look of them. Bah, maggots! Let them pluck their tiny bows, it's the druid that concerns me."

"Florina, catch! Now get out of here!" After tossing the vulnerary up to the injured pegasus rider, Grant shook his head at Vaida's confidence, "No, when slowed down by a passenger, that's too many even for you. Make a single pass, launch your spear at that druid, then slowly fall back, try to draw them out of the forest."

Looking down and trying to see positions for himself so as to adapt his plan if the need arose, the tactician noticed something moving up towards them very quickly, and almost invisible…

_

* * *

_

Legault was quite pleased with his progress thus far. Aside from Lord Hector's grumblings, all those assigned to the retreating party were doing so without questioning or making his job harder than it needed to be. Rath and Rebecca were flanking the group, making excellent scouts, while the man once known as Hurricane was pulling the ahead scout duty himself. All in all, things were going quite smoothly for being on the receiving end off an ambush.

Of course, Lagault knew all too well just how quickly things could go from smooth to foul. So he wasn't surprised in the least when he heard sounds of someone trying to sneak up on him from ahead. _Well now, _the thief frowned as he thought, _it seems I've been spotted. That is unfortunate. _Keeping pace with his would-be assailant, Legault kept within sight of his opponent until he passed behind a tree and silently jumped up into the branches.

Keeping a close eye on his pursuer from above, the thief saw that his tactic had it's desired effect as the black haired, golden eyed man lowered his bow and drew his axe while looking for his lost quarry. _Is that, a Morph? Hmm, and here I thought they would have all died with their master. Well, I'll think about this later, after I eliminate this little nuisance. _

Launching himself out of the tree, the Hurricane slashed a deep gash in the morph warrior's leg as he passed. Rolling to his feet, Legault quickly stepped back, taunting the morph, "Some hunter you are, can't keep your eyes on one little thief." Of course, he knew that taunting a morph did you no good, he just felt like doing it anyway.

As expected, the warrior lunged, swinging around his axe and hitting everything except his target, making a lot of noise as he knocked down a tree in his assault.

Legault just kept smiling and kept dodging, "That's the spirit! Give those trees what-for!" _And keep making noise so all of your little, predictable, morph friends come running straight here. Then I'll lead them off on a wild goose chase towards Heath's position while the others escape. Heath will see what I'm doing and let the lords know so they just keep going. Why Legault, I do believe this is a plan worthy of Grant himself! _

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* * *

_

Ducking under another clumsy thrust, Matthew dropped his usual knife and drew his backup weapon, the short, heavy and cleaver-like lancereaver. "Too bad these guys don't have the sense to run, eh Guy?"

Guy grunted his agreement, his full concentration on the sage before him. The magical morph was smarter than most others, using the full cover of the forest and his not unimpressive agility to keep the Sacaen from getting in a clean blow.

Before he could say anything else, Matthew's pair of generals had coordinated their efforts and were occupying his full attention as well. They attacked in unison, putting the spy completely on the defensive, dodging thrusts left and right with little time to attack.

In fact, Matthew was being pressed so badly by the generals that he had forgotten about his ally's predicament with the sage, until he heard Guy shout, "One down! You need a hand?"

Not one to be outdone, Matthew took a gamble and backed himself up to a tree, crouching to make the most of his cover, "From you? We're twelve and three, my favor! Why would I need your help?" As he taunted Guy, the general's struck, and Matthew sprang up from his crouch, grabbed a low branch and swung to the side, out of the way. Missing the intended target, the pair of lances had lodged themselves deep into the trunk of the tree, and before they could pull them out, Matthew had come up alongside and smashed his heavy blade into the stuck weapons, severing the points from the shafts, "They don't call it a lancereaver for nothing!"

Squaring off against his own general, Guy saw his friend's ploy work to perfection, and knew that Matthew would finish both of his foes in no time. He had no time to waste if he wanted to win this impromptu contest. "Grr, fine! Watch this!" Growling his frustration, the young Sacaen feinted forward, then leapt backwards as the general struck, causing his foe to overreach and lose balance. Before the morph could recover, Guy had flipped backwards, his signature technique, and used the momentum to spring forward in a dazzling display of acrobatic swordplay, twisting himself like a top in mid air and decapitating the unfortunate general in one blow, a spray of watery morph blood covering everything near the dead giant as it fell to the ground.

Turning triumphantly towards Matthew, Guy was shocked to see the thief leaning casually against a tree, both of his foes dead, their throats cleanly slit. "Hey, good show there Guy. A little messy for my tastes, but still impressive. You're getting a lot better."

Matthew didn't need to say it, because Guy could already hear the unspoken words, _A lot better, but not as good as me. _"Grr, I thought I had it that time! Come on, these can't be the only morphs around. We need to find their leader, and whatever was freaking Florina out." Guy wasn't dumb, he knew how much effort Matthew put into staying better than him. The two of them were friends and rivals, keeping each other sharp and pushing themselves to be the best. There wasn't a deadlier pair in the entire army! Well, okay, maybe Lord Hector and Oswin when they got going, but nobody else!

The spy chuckled and picked up his fighting knife, "With this fog, I'll lead. They won't sneak up on me."

Nodding, Guy sheathed his blade so the shine of the silver wouldn't give them away, and followed his friend deeper into the woods.

_

* * *

_

"Lady Louise, there aren't any flying enemies, and you shouldn't be removing your gloves in this cold," Erk knew that arguing with the lady was futile, but he had to try anyway, "Please withdraw, Lord Pent and I can handle things here."

Louise scoffed, as the young mage had known she would, "Thank you for your concern Erk, but I am also a soldier in this army and I will fight. Now let's go in and lend a hand, it seems that young pirate is having trouble over there."

Erk sighed, "Very well, I will go assist Dart. Please at least stay here with Lord Pent, your bow is more effective from a distance anyway."

Once Louise grudgingly agreed, Erk ran towards Dart, his elfire tome clutched in his left hand while he began to brandish the torch staff he had borrowed from Priscilla in his right. "I think it's time to increase visibility a bit." The staff began to glow as Erk chanted, accessing it's power**_, "Staff of light, release your power and disperse this foul mist!"_**

A bright flash filled the sky above Dart's head, and the mist recoiled, driven away by the mystical light. Satisfied with his work, Erk slung the staff across his back and opened his tome as he charged into the fray.

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* * *

_

In a moment of dreadful clarity, Grant realized what was going on, and he didn't have time to explain, "Vaida, evasive action! Now!"

Vaida obeyed instantly, digging her heel into her wyvern's side to get a quick reaction, but she still wasn't fast enough. As Umbriel tried to swerve away, half a dozen arrows slammed into his underbelly, forcing a scream of pain to erupt from even this mighty lizard. Vaida knew that scream all too well, "Grant! What is the meaning of this? We've been hit like some kind of flying pincushion! I see archers but no arrows, how are they shooting us?"

Grant shook his head as Umbriel flew back out of range of those below, "That Delphi Shield just saved our lives. Whoever we're facing here is my equal at the very least. Those arrows were painted gray from tip to feather, the same color as this accursed fog. Hard to see coming and harder to dodge. I'll have to remember this trick."

Looking around, Vaida saw that, besides for Heath, they were alone in the sky, "That would explain why they have no flyers. Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Sometimes, inspiration truly does come in the proverbial flash of light. Below, the warm illumination of a torch staff could be seen, and the large tactician got a very cold smile. "We can't do a thing about the arrows, so we're going to get rid of the fog." Picking up his trumpet, Grant played out a few new orders while Vaida applied some elixir to her wyvern.

_

* * *

_

Heath wasn't entirely sure what Legault thought he was doing. Of course, that was pretty normal for him, but usually the weird ex-fang was less confusing on the battlefield than off. "So what do you think Hyperion? Is he trying to get killed, get everyone lost, or just bringing us something to do since there isn't a single enemy up here this time?"

A low rumble, almost the wyvern version of purring, was Hyperion's response as he slowly wheeled around, tracking Legault's movements form the sky.

His rider laughed and patted him on his neck, "Yeah, that's what I thought too. Come on, let's go land on a few and clean up the rest. Our job is to keep the enemies away from the lords, right? Seems to me that taking them out early is a pretty good way to do that."

As the wyvern rider began his descent, a few sharp notes from a trumpet got his attention, "New orders, huh? Heath, Erk, urgent? I'm supposed to go pick up Erk urgently? What about Legault? Ah, he must have heard too. No sense arguing with Grant, let's go buddy."

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* * *

_

Legault almost stopped when he heard Grant's new orders. Thankfully he didn't, as stopping, even for just a second, is near suicide when you're being chased by eight or nine angry morphs. _Well, there goes that idea. I can't handle them all alone, and Heath isn't available. Hmm, I suppose I could always lead them in. I'm sure Lord Hector would thank me for it, though Grant may well do just the opposite. Sorry Grant, I don't have much of a choice now, do I? Nevermind that I backed myself into this corner, of course…_

Changing direction, the Hurricane ran straight past his pursuers, dodging a few potshots and taking a couple of his own on the way. "Come on you louts, change of plans! This way if you please."

_

* * *

_

Erk heard the trumpet blasts, but finished setting fire to the morph he was currently working on before reacting to them. As the latest morph cavalier lay burning on the ground with his fellows, the mage turned and blasted a hero away from Dart's back, "Dart, I've got new orders! Go meet up with the other mages, I'll wait for Heath here."

The pirate nodded absently at his erstwhile partner while finishing off another morph that had thrown itself at him, his twin axes practically ripping the unfortunate puppet in thirds, "Yeah, I 'eard. I'll see if I can't get this lot's attention and get 'em to follow me."

As Dart led some of the enemies off towards the mages, Erk quickly applied a vulnerary to his wounds and blasted away a few morphs who stayed with him instead of following Dart. "Where in blazes are all these creatures coming from? It's like there's no end to them."

But such musings were better left for off the battlefield. In short order, more morphs had appeared and lunged at Erk, their blades clumsy but numerous, and it seemed that as soon as he dropped one, two more appeared. Erk was quick, and his magic powerful, but it seemed that sheer numbers were about to get the better of him…

_

* * *

_

Heath flew quickly over the battlefield, keeping away from the woods where possible, and diving low as he got close to the Etrurians, only to see his new orders in a lot of trouble, "Tch! Let's go Hyperion!"

Coming down like a thunderbolt from the heavens, Hyperion did exactly as Heath had proposed earlier and landed on one warrior morph, ripping huge chunks out of it's back as his weight forced his victim into the dirt. Heath himself was doing just as well, using the force of the dive to drive his lance right through a paladin morph, de-horsing and killing it in the same blow. Not wanting to waste time fighting on the ground, Heath quickly used the chaos of his entrance to offer Erk a hand up, "Come on, let's get out of here!"

Gladly accepting the hand, Erk pulled himself up behind his rescuer and used one of the few remaining spells in his time to blast away a morph that was trying to grab Hyperion's tail and ground him. "Thanks. Any idea what we're doing?"

Heath kicked Hyperion back into the air as he answered, "None. That's why we're going to see Grant and the commander."

_

* * *

_

As the pair reached the tactician, the two wyvern riders had their mounts fly slow circles around eachother so they could talk. Grant smiled when he saw Erk, that cold tactician's smile that made chills run up the spines of most soldiers, "Good, you still have that torch staff. Whatever's going on here, it will stop when we get their leader, and the leader is in the woods. But with the invisible arrows, it's not safe to fly over the woods to find him, and the fog is too thick to find him on foot."

Heath spluttered out in panic, "Invisible arrows?"

Vaida snorted at Heath's outburst, "Control yourself, and shut up! Grant's still talking."

"Uh, sorry commander."

Grant sighed, "As I was saying, we need to get rid of the fog, and that will solve both problems. That's where you come in Erk."

Erk nodded, "Right. Grant, both Guy and Matthew are already in the woods. Perhaps if I dispel the fog, they will find the leader? Or we can find him and give them directions while playing as a distraction?"

The tactician nodded, "Exactly. Follow us, and fly above us. Umbriel will shield Hyperion from enemy fire, at least until we can get rid of the fog."

The plan set, the four moved towards where Vaida had seen the druid. As they arrived, Erk drew his staff and let it's power loose again and again, doing all he could to rid the wood below of the fog. Golden spheres of magic and light appeared, one after another, pushing the fog away and leaving the forest clear.

_

* * *

_

Below in the woods, a heavily scarred man in black robes frowned. "They're better than I remember. I must retreat for now. Come along dove, we need to observe more before we try again. Eagle, be sure to tell them that master Nergal survived."

Another robed figure, smaller than the first, nodded silently and moved to take the scarred man's hand. Together they disappeared in a flash of magic, leaving another man standing there alone, his massive axe at the ready.

_

* * *

_

Matthew froze, holding out hand motioning Guy to do the same. Turning slowly, he crouched and whispered, "Well, there goes our cover."

Guy crouched beside his friend, also lowering his voice, "Yeah, but there goes their cover too."

Matthew was about to respond when he heard a faint sound, one he had heard too many times over the course of this war. "Guy, did you hear that? Someone just warped!"

Guy nodded, "Yeah, I did. Come on, whoever's in charge has to be over there."

_

* * *

_

With the fog gone, Grant had no trouble seeing the situation below. Matthew and Guy were still out of sight, but he knew he'd spot them, or at least Guy, eventually. What was more important was the enemy position. "Heath, take Erk back and keep this up. When one orb fades, make a new one." Raising his trumpet again, he began playing orders to advance. With visibility restored, the human army had the advantage over the more numerous, but weaker, morphs.

Meanwhile, Vaida was busy hurling javelins at any archer stupid enough to point a bow at her, but stopped when she spotted a flash of brown and a bit of green moving quickly through the brush. "Grant, I see them. Right there." Without waiting for the order she urged Umbriel to follow, keeping them within her vision and looking for whatever they were heading towards. Luckily for them, she saw what they were heading for before they did. "Look, there's a berserker down there, and he looks different from the rest. He has a swordreaver! Let me handle it!"

As Umbriel started to descend, Grant ordered Vaida back up, "No, let them. Swordreaver or no, they can handle a single berserker." Before Vaida could protest, Grant played out a few more notes.

_

* * *

_

Matthew and Guy heard the call, _Matthew, Leader, Ahead, Danger. _Wordlessly they looked at each other, smiled, and raced forward.

Breaking out in a small clearing, the two came face to face with a morph who made Oswin look small. The man stood over seven feet high, and his massive, but feather-light, axe was almost as big. Like any morph, his skin was perfect, his hair pitch black, and his eyes golden, but though he shared many qualities with the other puppets, he still was different. Larger than even the other morph berserkers, and without that silly helmet, his hair long…this creature almost seemed a mockery of the fierce Hawkeye. And what's more, his golden eyes held the intelligence of a sentient creature, not the emptiness of a puppet.

Guy slowly approached, silver sword in both hands, and began to circle around, hoping to catch this foe between them. "Matthew, is that…?"

The spy nodded, his own weapons drawn, "Yeah." As Guy moved right, Matthew moved left, and started talking, keeping the morph's attention on him, "So, are you one of the custom morphs? You got a name?"

Wise to their ploy, the morph held his axe out toward's Guy but kept his gaze firmly on Matthew, "My creator calls me Eagle. Master Nergal lives."

Guy almost dropped his sword, "What? Oh no, no way. I saw him die. There's no way that monster is still alive! Even Lord Athos is dead thanks to all that! Nergal can't have outlived him! He can't!"

"Calm down Guy. He's lying. He has to be. He's just trying to shake us up, make us easier prey." Matthew stared down his enemy, looking for a weakness, "Isn't that right, you freak? What happened, did your master make you in Hawkeye's image, then realize you couldn't live up to the real thing? Is that why you weren't at Dragon's Gate? Or did you just chicken out?"

Eagle was unaffected by the spy's words, "Master Nergal lives, that is all you need to know. I will write this message on your corpse and leave you for your masters to find."

By this point, Guy and Matthew had flanked the morph named Eagle. As he lifted his axe to strike at the thief, Guy dashed in to strike, "Yeah? Just try it!" With the incredible speed swordmasters are known for, he struck, but the exceptionally light weight of the swordreaver let Eagle shift his weapon around quickly enough to block his attack.

"Oh, I will." Spinning, he swung his axe in an underhanded sweep, resembling the mighty warrior of Nebata in more than looks, and Guy barely had time to leap backwards.

But as soon as his attention was on Guy, Matthew had launched his own assault at Eagle's back, and he was not so easily avoided. With the precision of an assassin, the spy slammed his dagger into the berserker's back,but no sooner had he connected than a large hand grabbed the collar of his cloak and threw him into a tree, the sickening crack of the impact drowning out Matthew's groans of pain.

Guy was furious, "You son of a bitch!" Throwing himself into the combat, the enraged swordmaster lashed out with blow after lightning blow of his silver sword, but the Eagle remained calm, using the broad blade and light weight of his axe to absorb these countless strikes, only occasionally getting scarred by one that slipped past his impressive guard. Time seemed meaningless in that deadly exchange, until Guy's sword could take no more...and broke.

Eagle lowered his axe and laughed, "Fool. If you value your friend so much, at least take comfort that I will kill you before I finish him." With a mighty swing, the morph slammed his axe into the Sacaen before he could draw his backup weapon, sending him flying, and crashing to the ground where he lay still as a stone.

The massive morph began to laugh again as he turned, and saw that Matthew wasn't as down as he seemed. As the thief threw his weapon, Eagle raised his axe to block, and while he managed to intercept, the heavy lancereaver was more than the light swordreaver was designed to block, and the impact fractured the berserker's weapon, already weak from blocking too manystrikesof Guy's sword.

Eagle scowled as Matthew weakly laughed, "Ha, bet you didn't think I could throw something that heavy, did you?"

"Enjoy your little victory, human. You will soon be as dead as your friend. I can rip your laughing head off with my bare hands."

"Well, that's one thing you're right about." Matthew tried to pull himself up, "See, I taught that kid a lot. How to survive an ambush, how to deal with people who don't fight fair," he paused, smirking at what might seem to be his advancing doom, "How to play dead…"

A sudden sound behind him was the Eagle's only warning. He turned, thinking this impossible, and saw Guy rocketing towards him, spinning himself like a top though the air, killing edge in hand…

_

* * *

_

Eliwood shook his head in disbelief, "So do we have any idea who orchestrated this attack?"

Grant frowned, "I'm afraid not. Matthew and Guy might know more, once they wake up. Whoever it was, they are a master tactician. Using a silence staff on the advance scouts, painting the arrows gray to make them seem invisible in the fog, arming that odd berserker with a swordreaver, knowing that swordsmen are usually the best in the woods. Even sending some troops to cover the most likely escape routes of our retreating forces. We managed this one by the skin of our teeth, and almost lost more than a few people."

Lyn nodded, the attack on the retreating forces was not as strong as the main assault, but it was fierce nonetheless, and she was not liking the idea of this enemy strategist still being out there. "And there are more questions. If this…berserker morph was so powerful, why wasn't he with Nergal? And where did all these morphs suddenly come from? I thought he had pulled all of them back to bolster his own strength?"

The lords and the tactician continued trying to put the pieces together when Marcus entered the command tent, his face white as a sheet, "Excuse me, my lords, we have news from the healers. Matthew and Guy have awoken."

Hector had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, "Marcus? Out with it man! What has you looking like you've seen a ghost?"

Moving to his vassal's side, Eliwood was beginning to feel very afraid. If somethingcould scare Sir Marcus like this, no, he didn't want to think about it. "Marcus, give us the news."

The paladin straightened up, determined not to show weakness in the presance of his lord, "Matthew reports that the morph they defeated, the one who looked like master Hawkeye, gave them a message." Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his nerves, he continued, "The messages was, 'Master Nergal lives.'"

The tent went silent, and the dread filling the room became almost tangible. Finally, Eliwood broke the silence, "Oh dear St. Elimine let this be untrue. For all our sakes, please let this be untrue."

* * *

_Author's Footnote: So what'd you think? Please review and let me know, both what I did right and wrong. Things I'm a little worried about were my discriptions of the reaver weapons, and just how they are designed to defeat what they would normally be weak against, as well as how two reaver weaponsopposingreverse the triangle back. Also the descriptions of the fighting itself has always been hard for me. I'm more of a dialogue guy, so there is lots of talking even in my fight scenes. Of course, this is Fire Emblem, so there's always time for a nice chat in the middle of a battle. Please take the time to review, I would greatly appriciate it._


	4. A Farewell to Valor

_First off, a big thanks to my two reviewers, Sardonic Kender Smile and . You two rock. Reviews are greatly appreciated and really help me with my writing. Secondly, a big thank you to everyone who has been patient enough to hang with me through this long delay between updates. Moving will do that to you, ya know? Anywho, without any further ado, on to the story! _

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Chapter 4-A Farewell to Valor

The news had spread throughout the camp like a wildfire, and despite Hector and Eliwood's best efforts to keep things under control, the army was on the verge of panic. By the time they made camp the next evening, Eagle's simple message had twisted and grown like some demented flower, and wild speculation was the rule of the day. Some had the dark druid as being truly immortal, while others claimed that the Nergal they had faced was just a morph, and the real one was still out there. Still others shook in terror and whispered that the blackheart had absorbed so much quintessence that he had achieved godhood. But in Lord Pent's tent, five men and a girl sat around a table and put such rumors aside, using knowledge and logic to attempt to piece together the real story behind this eerie message.

They weren't getting very far. Guy could only sit back and be quiet as the questions, debates, and painfully few answers flew around him. He had been asked to repeat the story of their fight with Eagle over a dozen times now, grilled for details that he didn't even know he had until Grant forced them out of his skull. Thankfully, now he had a chance to rest, as the tactician had moved on to Nino and Renault, looking for more insider information on Nergal himself.

Again, he wasn't getting very far.

"Alright, in this tent, we have some of the greatest minds in magical, church and elder lore, not to mention a tactical genius and a former Fang. So can someone please explain how it is that we aren't coming up with anything?" Grant was getting tired and frustrated, and was starting to get snarky. "Renault, Nino, are you sure that's all you remember? I feel like we're on the verge of something here, but we just don't have enough information."

Renault simply hung his head in near defeat, unable to recall anything else of worth, "Sir, you know more of me than I would willingly share, were the circumstances different. There is nothing more I can tell you about Nergal, or about the power he may conceivably have."

Nino also shook her head, her eyes fighting to stay open against her exhaustion and the late hour, "I…I'm sorry. That's all."

To forestall any further interrogations, Pent stood. "It's getting late. Let us recap and retire. Perhaps sleep will bring inspiration."

Guy sighed in relief, as did Nino beside him, while Renault and Canas nodded in agreement with the Pent's wisdom. Grant let out a growl of disgust and slammed his head down on the table, but didn't object.

"Alright, so here's what we have. Canas thinks that it would be possible for a sorcerer of Nergal's caliber to have taken his knowledge of the morph process, and somehow used it to create a sort of backup body for himself, should he perish."

Canas nodded again, "Yes. It's theoretically possible, but extremely unlikely. If he managed it, I would be surprised if his mind remained his own and wasn't twisted into something else by the experience."

"What mind he had left, anyway." Taking over for Pent, Grant continued the recap, "Renault also thinks that it might be possible, but it is also just as, if not more likely, that someone else is making new morphs and pretending to be Nergal. The question then becomes who? His greatest intelligent morphs are out of the question. Ephidel died at Dragon's Gate, Sonia was killed by Jaffar's own daggers, Kishuna got torn apart by Hector and Oswin, and Canas blasted Limstella into bite-sized chunks with that ridiculous Luna spell. Who does that leave? Ursula? We didn't kill her, so maybe she got away. I doubt it though. Nergal did make a morph of her, so I'm thinking he had her quintessence harvested after she failed to kill us."

Picking up his water mug, the weary tactician took a long drink before concluding, "Nino and Renault can't think of anyone else who could do this. So what does it leave? An unknown morph maker using Nergal's methods and name, or Nergal morphed himself. Neither are particularly attractive options, though I personally prefer the first, but the second is looking a lot more likely. Creating a morph would take years of knowledge and experience. If there was someone else who could, Nergal would have used them as a resource by now."

Guy blinked in confusion. Something had been running through his own mind, but he hadn't brought it up as he was sure that Grant would have already thought of it. Clearing his throat to get the room's attention, the sword-fighter looked up at the gathered thinkers and took a deep breath to calm himself before voicing his thoughts, "Uh, what about someone like Eagle? If Nergal made a few more before he died, couldn't he have made another intelligent morph and gave it the knowledge of how to make more and left it behind on purpose? You know, so his work wouldn't die even if he did?"

Staring at Guy, Grant slowly sighed, removed his spectacles, and smacked himself in the forehead, "Yes, he could. Thank you Guy." Looking over to the others Grant picked up his mug and cloak, ready to leave, "Okay, now it's officially time to stop. We've got the warriors finding obvious conclusions that the magicians and tactician have missed. Renault, does that sound likely? Would Nergal do something like that?"

Also standing to leave, Renault shrugged, "It's definitely possible, but I'm not sure Nergal would want anyone else knowing the full process. That was the biggest secret to his power. Canas?"

The shaman had to agree, "Yes, it seems unlikely, but possible. Most wielders of elder magic get quite paranoid of others after too many years of using it, I can't see him entrusting the secret to anyone," looking back towards the battlefield, Canas remembered the way the morphs threw their lives away with such abandon, "Of course, his morphs weren't exactly 'someone' to him, were they? He could have made one as an assistant in the process and left it behind as it had no combat prowess to aid in the final battle."

Grant shook his head and turned to go, "Maybe. So we've swung back around to square one. Still, I suppose that we're better off for the journey. We have some ideas and some things to look into. My report to the lords will be that the best we can do for now is to just go home and live as normal until we have more information. Whoever this is, they have little resources left, and I doubt they'll strike again for quite some time. That last attack had an air of desperation about it, and we came through injured, but alive. Time, for once, is something we now have. Good night all, I apologize for keeping you up this late. Get what sleep you can, we leave at first light so we can reach the ship by nightfall."

* * *

In their hurry to make it to the relative safety of the ship, the army set up a forced march that morning, and didn't even break for lunch. So the typical conversations or news sharing had to be done on the go, not the most ideal circumstances for receiving bad news.

Mathew could hardly believe his ears. Guy was taking the opportunity to fill him in on what had been talked about the night before, and the spy just couldn't believe the decision that was reached. "So that's it? We just go home and wait for Nergal, or whoever, to gather power and strike again? He's made some weird calls in the past, but this time Grant's out of his bleeding mind."

Guy was sorely missing his horse as he forced himself to keep pace with the thief. It was hard enough to do during the heat of battle, but trying to stay next to him for hours on end in a forced march was almost more than he could manage. "I…don't know. It does…seem like a…bad idea…but," unfortunately, holding a conversation while keeping pace was a bit more than the Sacaen could handle. Trying desperately not to pant, he was forced to slow down and catch his breath, "But I think he knows what he's doing. He's probably got a dozen plans running, and just needs to wait until we get to the mainland to make them work."

Not getting a response, Guy looked up and found himself talking to Matthew's quickly retreating back. With a growl, the swordsman grabbed a small rock and flung it at his friend, "Slow down, will you Matt? We'll get there as fast as our slowest person, unless you were planning on making Fargus leave before everyone was aboard!"

Easily dodging the rock, Matthew let out a sigh while he stopped and waited for Guy to catch up. Once he did, the spy offered him a half-smile of apology, "Sorry. I know that, really. I just want to get away from here as fast as I can, you know? Before we get ambushed again, or before something else happens to slow us down, like bad weather rolling in."

_More like you just want to get away from where you lost Leila. You'll probably stab me if I try to bring it up though. _Guy nodded, "Yeah, I understand," _I understand more than you want me to. _"So do you really think that Grant has lost it?"

Seeing more in Guy's face than in his words, Matthew turned and resumed walking, albeit at a slower pace. Still, he kept ahead of his erstwhile partner, not wanting to have to look at anybody right now, "No, he's on top of things. There's just nothing I can do, so I'm nervous." Giving in to a sudden strong desire to be alone, the thief stopped and gestured off to the ahead-right, "Come on, let's go scout ahead. We've got a few more hours yet before we reach the boat, and I'd rather do something than talk about what someone else is doing. I'll go left, you take right." As per usual, he didn't wait for a response before jogging off ahead, leaving Guy to do whatever he wanted.

As Matthew disappeared ahead of him, Guy chunked another small rock after him, "Hey! Are you trying to work yourself to death? Come on, get back here!" With a growl of frustration, the Sacaen dashed off after his friend, leaving the right for someone else to scout. _There's no way I'm leaving you alone right now. Not when you're like this. _

* * *

As night fell, the army was most relived to see the _Davros_ still awaiting them, as large and impressive as ever. Finding something amusing in the situation, Grant quietly chuckled as he slowly slid off Lyn's horse.

Sliding to the ground herself, Lyn looked back at her friend with a confused smile, "What's so funny?"

Continuing to laugh, Grant gestured towards the ship, "Oh, only that this is quite likely the first time that anyone has ever been _happy_ to see a large, heavily armed pirate ship."

Blinking, Lyn just stared up at the ship for a moment before she started laughing as well. As the two walked up towards the ship, they just couldn't stop laughing. It wasn't so much the joke, but the fact that they had reached the ship that had them in such good humor. They were safe.

* * *

Having reached the shore before most of the others, Guy had been sitting on the beach and resting after his long, tiring, and ultimately fruitless pursuit of Matthew. Hearing laughter behind him, he turned to see the rest of the army arriving, piece by piece.

Pulling himself up, the weary swordsman made his way towards the landing boats, where some of the pirate were already waiting to take the first group aboard. As he and a few of the other early arrivals were rowed towards the ship, Guy stared at the large vessel, wondering exactly where Matthew had hidden himself aboard it. _You can dodge me out here, you jerk, but you can't avoid me on the ship forever. You're my friend, and I'm going to help you with this whether you like it or not. _

* * *

_Author's Note: Not much of real import in chapter 4. Chapter 5 will feature the classic 'parting of ways' and it will be after that where the real story of Sword and Shadow begins. Also, that is the point where things will branch off into Right & Rulership, and Love & Loyalty, both of which I will be starting soon. Soon for me anyway. I know I'm not the world's fastest writer. Still, I hope it's good enough to entertain despite the irregular update schedual._


	5. Parting is

_Author's Note: Well, here's chapter five. It hops around viewpoints a bit, but that's because this is where the path branches. Sword and Shadow will continue to follow Guy and Matthew, and those close to them, while two other stories will be written to follow the paths leading into Bern and Etruria.

* * *

_

Chapter 5-Parting is…

Guy hung his head over the railing of the _Davros_ as the sun began to creep above the eastern horizon. He was seasick, exhausted, and worst of all, completely and totally alone. Ever since getting on the ship, none of his friends, or even close acquaintances, had any time at all to spend with him. Rath was always busy keeping all of the horses calm and healthy, and when he did have some free time, he tended to go and spend it with either Wil or lady Lyn. Grant was always closeted up with the Lords, or the scholars, or Captain Fargus, or even with wyvern riders of all people, and Guy certainly didn't want to disturb the tactician while he was doubtlessly discussing important matters.

And that brought his thoughts to Matthew. Guy growled in frustration as the damnable thief came to mind. This entire trip, Matthew had been actively avoiding him, lending a hand around the ship, hiding up in the rigging, in meetings with his lord or other important people, and any number of other excuses to never be available to talk. It was really starting to get on Guy's nerves, and he couldn't think of a single reason why his friend would go to these lengths to avoid him. It was maddening!

Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do about it. Deciding that doing anything was better than standing around moping, the Sacaen went off to find a pirate and volunteer for some chores. _Who knows, maybe he'll have the same idea and us 'lubbers' will be put in the same place. Of course, then he'll just suddenly 'remember' that Lord Hector wanted to see him, or something like that. Jerk._

* * *

Matthew leaned over the edge of the crow's nest as he stared at the rising sun, bathing the placid ocean in an golden glow that too soon faded away to the simple blue of day. Sighing, he shifted his view down to the ship below him, watching the sailors and soldiers scurry about with the morning chores. People watching was always a great hobby of his. You never know what someone is going to do or say when they don't think anyone's looking at them.

As he watched the people run around, he noticed a very familiar green braid out of the corner of his eye. Looking, the thief noticed that Guy was actually doing something other than moping around or hunting for him. Namely, swabbing the deck, myrmidon style. He almost had to laugh at the sight of Guy swinging around a mop like it was a fighting stick, relentlessly attacking the dirty planks, the dirty railings, and even occasionally his fellow swabbers. But even though he seemed to be enjoying himself, Matthew could tell that he was also constantly scanning around for any sign of a certain Ostian spy.

Shaking his head in amazement, said spy turned his attention back to the horizon and grabbed his spyglass, "That kid just doesn't give up. How long is it going to take for him to get it through his skull that we aren't friends." Putting the spyglass to his eye, he looked out towards the horizon, searching for signs of land, "Guys like me don't have friends."

Still, despite his resolution to keep people at a distance, Matthew couldn't escape a nagging part of his mind, that just couldn't let it go. _Oh, and I suppose Leila was a passing acquaintance? Face it Matt, you're just too good at what you do to buy that load of bullshit, even if it is your own._

Getting angry with himself now, Matthew closed his eyes and lowered the spyglass, his hands shaking. Inwardly, he practically screamed back at his own mind, _Shut up!_ _Just. Shut. The. Hell. Up!_

* * *

Thankfully, the trip back to Badon wasn't as angst filled for everyone as it was for Guy and Matthew. Grant was actually enjoying himself quite thoroughly. The pirates had taught him to pay an interesting dice game called Storm, then summarily invited him to never play it with them again after he rolled triple fours twice in a row. He, Pent and the captain had an ongoing game of Go in progress, and interesting game that Fargus had picked up in a foreign land. Oddly enough, the good captain currently had a strong advantage over both the mage general and the tactician, an advantage that Grant fully intended to remove the next time they played.

But that was for another time. Currently, he sat in the small chair in Lord Eliwood's cabin, pondering a pair of problems for the young lord. And what a pair of problems they were.

Eliwood, sitting in the other small chair, watched the tactician somewhat nervously as he waited for a response. Before long, the silence had gone on too long and he had to verbally prod the older man for an answer, or even just his thoughts, "Well Grant? What say you to Santaruz, at least?"

Grant decisively, and dismissively, shook his head, "That's the easy one. No. I am not of Lycia, and not of the blood of Roland. And furthermore, even if the other lords would accept me, which I assure you they would not, it would not do to have Pherae and Ostia, two of the largest and most influential territories, constantly looking to tiny little Santaruz for advice and guidance." Looking up at Eliwood's shocked expression, he elaborated, "Look, you and Hector must learn to be lords and rulers in your own right. If I were around and accessible, both of you would constantly be coming to me with your problems. That simply won't do. You are quite right that I could in fact rule a territory. But if I were to accept, I wouldn't end up ruling one territory, I'd be ruling four."

Sighing, the large man removed his spectacles and wiped them clean, as he often did when nervous or frustrated, "And it's not just you. Even if you weren't asking for my advice, I'd be giving it. I'd see you two making mistakes, and I'd tell you what you should be doing instead. I can't help myself, if I see someone doing something wrong, I correct them. It's practically a compulsion. That's why I have to leave Lycia."

A moment of silence passed while Eliwood digested Grant's response. At first, he was angry at the tactician's insinuation that he wouldn't do things on his own, but after thinking about it, he realized that Grant was right. Standing, the young lord nodded his thanks and moved to leave, "You're right, of course. I withdraw the offer. And I suppose that there is no better time than now to learn to stand on my own feet. I'll figure out my other problem on my own. Thank you, though, you have been an immeasurable help in this war. We couldn't have won without you. But now that it's over, I really should let you get back to your own affairs."

But before he could leave, Grant held up his hand and motioned Eliwood to sit back down. "I'm not done yet. Helping you with this is the least I can do. I owe it to Fiora, after…" the tactician closed his eyes for a brief moment, recomposing himself, "well, after. Anything I can do to ensure her happiness is far less than I owe her."

Sitting back down, Eliwood smiled gratefully at the older man, and wondered when Grant would ever be able to forgive himself for the ones who had died. "Thank you. I'm afraid I don't even know where to start."

Grant smiled back with what Hector had termed his 'evil bastard' smile, "You start, by knighting her in service to Pherae…"

* * *

Hector laughed as he went striding towards Eliwood's cabin, wanting to be the first to tell his friend the good news. Throwing the door open without bothering to knock, he walked right in and heartily slapped both of the men he found inside on the back, "Eliwood! Grant! Land ho, lads! We're back in Lycia!"

Picking himself up from Hector's greeting, Eliwood gave his friend an odd look, "Lads? You're starting to sound like Captain Fargus."

Grant chuckled, while Hector blinked at the accusation, "What? Gah! I've been hanging around that old man too much. Anyway, we're home. Just another hour or so and we'll be off this floating bucket and back on dry land."

Eliwood nodded, and motioned toward the door, "Well, shall we go oversee the preparations to disembark, then?"

"No need. I've already got Oswin, Marcus and Kent handling it."

Laughing, Eliwood just sat back down and looked up at his friend, "You know, if I had known you were going to be this capable, I'd have made you take over much earlier. You hardly seem like the Hector who used to fall asleep in numbers class and mimic the priest during sermons."

Grant raised an eyebrow at that last one, and Hector winced, "Yeah, uh, do you think you could never mention that one again? Thanks. Anyway," he gave Eliwood a friendly punch in the shoulder, "I've changed? Look at you! You look ten years older than when we left, you've got some real muscle to go with that speed of yours, and you've even learned when to call it quits and let someone else handle things for a change. Quite a far cry from the scrawny kid who thought it was his duty to work himself to death."

"I suppose you're right," standing back up, Eliwood headed for the door again, "we really should be out on the deck though. Even if we aren't overseeing things, we at least need to make sure we can be seen. We are back in Lycia, after all. It's time to start acting like a pair of soon-to-be Lords, and not a pair of lordlings on holiday."

"Hrmph," Hector grunted his reluctant agreement, and the three men went to head above deck and lend a hand where they could. As they walked, Hector remembered something that he had intended to ask, "So, Eliwood, what were you two talking about anyway?"

Eliwood laughed, "Oh, you're going to like this…"

* * *

Badon had never seen such a party. Almost all of the soldiers were staying at least until morning, and with Hector, Pent and Fargus splitting the tab, everyone was cutting loose and having fun.

There were, however, a few notable exceptions. Karel tried to start a fight with Jaffar the moment they set foot on land, only to find that silent assassin wouldn't even draw his weapon. In disgust, Karel proclaimed the once feared Angel of Death to no longer be worthy prey, and left without another word. Karla apologized to the lords for her abrupt departure and set off after her murderous brother.

The enigmatic Renault shared a single drink with Grant and Canas, and then went his own way, vanishing from history.

Dorcas, eager to return to Natalie, got permission from Lord Eliwood to act as a messenger and leave for Pherae at once. Officially, he was to deliver the news of their return to the Lady Eleanora, although everyone knew that his haste had nothing to do with official messages. Still, no one begrudged him his leave, or if they did, they wisely kept it to themselves.

* * *

Louise smiled to herself as she watched all of the budding romances around her. She was a hopeless romantic, and always happy to see young people in love, especially on a day like this. _It's wonderful to know that love can grow and blossom even after such a dark ordeal. _

Sipping her wine, the lady grinned impishly as she watched the young archers Wil and Rebecca stammer out apologies while blushing furiously after Rebecca 'accidentally' bumped into the young man. _I told her that would work. If he was only interested in being friends, he'd be teasing her, not blushing like a boy who just found out what a girl was. They're so cute!_

Her attention was quickly drawn away from the archers by the sight of Erk staring down a local rowdy who had gotten a little too close to Priscilla. _Good thing I reminded him just how rough of a town Badon can be. The Lady Priscilla needs her escort more than ever in a place like this. _

Casting her eyes elsewhere, Louise noted with interest where a certain purple haired rouge's gaze was resting, firmly on the backside of a certain male wyvern knight. _Well now! I wouldn't except to see that out of a man from Bern. Then again, Legault always has been more than a little odd. Interesting. I wonder if it's mutual? Probably not, poor guy. Hmm, maybe I should let him know that kind of romance is accepted in Etruria. But how…?_

The lady's meddlesome musings were interrupted by her own lover's arms wrapping around her waist, "Come now Louise, leave the young ones in peace."

Grinning, she settled herself back in her lord's embrace, and drained the last of her wine, "Leave them in peace? I'll have you know that I was doing just that, standing over here and minding my own business."

Pent laughed, "I'm sure. More like you were minding everyone's business except your own," spinning Louise around to face him, the mighty sage gently brushed an errant strand of hair away from his lady's eyes, "Admit it, my dear. You live to meddle."

Louise held her hand over her heart and gasped, a mock-look of wounded dignity upon her face, "Me? I'll admit to no such thing!"

Rolling his eyes, but still laughing, Pent began to lead his lady off towards a local tavern, "Then if you aren't meddling, you won't mind if we go join Hawkeye for one last meal before he returns to Nebata. The captain has recommended an excellent tavern that is famous throughout Lycia for the skill of it's chef."

Allowing herself to be led off, Louise nodded thoughtfully, "Yes, I think I know the one. Don't you usually have to wait at least a month for a reservation?"

Smiling, the sage gave his wife a conspiratorial wink, "Sometimes, my dear, being the famous Mage General of Etruria has it's advantages."

* * *

Of course, not everyone was having so enjoyable an evening. Matthew had spent the entire afternoon dodging Guy, and was finally in a place that he thought obscure enough to let his guard down and have a drink. He was, of course, wrong. Mere moments after he got his drink, the door opened again, and there was Guy.

Nonchalantly, the spy stood up and began towards the kitchen, intending to make a dash for it out the back, but froze when he heard what Guy had to say.

"Attention! That man is wanted by the Marquis of Ostia. I'm here to collect him."

Matthew couldn't believe his his eyes towards the kitchen door he found it already blocked by a pair of locals, and the same went for the stairs up. The only way out was the front door, which Guy himself stood in front of. _I'm trapped like a rat. You little son of a horse! _Turning to face Guy, the angry thief had no choice but to walk up and let himself be 'collected'.

As they left the tavern, Guy spoke first, "It won't do you any good to run. Lord Hector really is looking for you, and promised to hold you until we had a chance to talk. It'd be easier to just talk to me now."

Matthew was seething, and in no mood to be nice, "Wanted by the Marquis of Ostia? Nice little version of the truth there, Guy. What happened to that Sacaen honor?"

Guy clenched his fist, desperately wanting to punch those words right back into the spy's mouth, but held his anger and loosened his hand, "That hurts, Matt. In fact, everything you've done lately hurts. You won't talk to me, you avoid me like I'm carrying a disease, and when I finally do catch up to you, you treat me like this? I thought we were friends! What happened? What did I do to you to make you hate me like this?" By this point, Guy's voice was raised, and his face only a few inches from Matthew's, his hurt and confusion plain for all the world to hear and see.

Matthew couldn't bear to look at it any longer. Closing his eyes, he turned his head away, _It's now or never. I've got to make him so angry he'll never speak to me again. I can't afford to have another friend… _

Opening his eyes, Matthew turned his back on the swordsman, "Friends? Let me tell you something, spies don't have friends. Especially not ones as stupidly idealistic as you. You've been a great sparring partner, but now you're just getting in my way." Forcing himself to turn around with nothing but bored contempt evident in his eyes, the 'hardened' spy almost faltered at the pain and betrayal on the young swordsman's face. Almost. "And since you're obviously too dense to get it on your own, I'll spell it out for you. You've got nothing more I need. Maybe you should listen to your buddy Rath next time."

Turning back around to walk away, Matthew held up two pieces of paper in his hand, "Here, you want your oathpaper back? I'll give you two last orders," opening his hand, he let the strips of paper flutter to the ground, "One, go away. And two, leave me alone."

As he heard Guy sink to the ground behind him, Matthew had to stop himself from turning around and pretending it was all a joke. Sure, Guy would cut him into ribbons for it, but the thief wasn't sure that it wouldn't be less painful than what he was doing now. _Well, that's that. If nobody cares about me, I don't have to care about them. And I'll never be hurt like that again. No more weaknesses, my job is the only thing that matters. I did the right thing, for both of us. I know I did. _Sighing, Matthew turned his eyes skywards, vainly searching for some answer in the stars, _So why do I still want to stab myself?_

* * *

The next morning found most everyone in poor spirits. This was they day they all went their separate ways. Hector and his retinue were going with Eliwood to Pherae for Lord Elbert's funeral before heading up to Ostia, and joining the ranks of the Pheraens were Nino, Jaffar and Fiora. Lyn and the Caelin folk were going straight home, impatient to see how Lord Hausen was faring, and Grant, Legault and the wyvern riders were also going to Caelin before they made their way to Araphen and through there to Bern. Pent, Louise, Erk and Priscilla were returning to Etruria after another day or so in Badon.

Some belonged to no group and went on their own way. Rath was planning to stay in Pherae for awhile, before going home to the plains. Geitz was joining Dart on the _Davros,_ for a little while at least. Raven had a quick conversation with Hector, then shocked everyone by giving Priscilla a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead before leaving with Lucius for who knows where. Bartre had already wandered off in the middle of the night, but no one was really worried about him. Hawkeye was returning to Nebata, and Canas was making the long hike up to Ilia on his own.

The only person make conspicuous by his absence was a certain Sacaen swordmaster with a green braid…

* * *

_Author's Footnote: And so ends another long chapter. Another big thanks to the two people who bothered to review my previous chapter. As for the rest of you, I could really use the feedback. Reviewing isn't hard, it's really helpful, and it doesn't take nearly as long as reading the blasted chapter in the first place. _

_Anyway, next time in S&S, Matthew gets a rude awakening, Guy out-angsts Raven, and Eliwood reveals the details of Grant's master plan._


	6. Matthew: Shadow's Request

Chapter 6-Matthew: Shadow's Request

No sooner had they left Badon, then the weather took a turn for the worse. Dark clouds hung over head, constantly threatening to drop an ocean of rain, or fill the sky with thunder and lightning. Threats which it made good on at irregular intervals.

Of course, while most were cursing it, this dark weather suited Matthew's mood just fine. Ever since his 'conversation' with Guy, he had been in the most foul of moods, and couldn't even muster the energy to disguise it. And to make matters worse, just as they were leaving, the damned assassin and his pet mage caught up with them, ostensibly to start a new life in Pherae.

The spy snorted, he didn't believe that for a second. That bastard had killed Lord Elbert, Leila, and God alone knows how many others. They called him the 'Angel of Death' for Elimine's sake! People like that don't just stop killing because some idealistic little brat tells them to! No, he was probably just using the girl as an excuse to get into Pherae and finish off what he started with Lord Elbe…cursing at himself inwardly, Matthew locked down that line of thinking. _If he was going to betray us, he'd have done it at Dragon's Gate, before we killed his master. _

Forcing his thoughts away from his hatred of Jaffar, Matthew let his depressed mind wander, though he knew it was a bad idea. As they always did, his mind turned to Leila. He saw visions of their time together, the few moments they had when neither one was on assignment. He remembered the days they spent egging each other on to more daring and dangerous stunts, stupid things that neither would have attempted if it were not to impress the other. He closed his eyes and remembered her bloody corpse, and the numbness he felt when he buried her…

* * *

_A single tear slowly rolled down the side of a young man's cheek as he wiped the blood away from his lover's cold face. "Leila…how could this happen? You…you're too good to slip up like this. Idiot…" forcing a half smile, he gingerly lifted her lifeless body and set her down in the shallow grave he had dug, "when I wished for this to be your last mission, for you to put this life behind you…this isn't what I meant."_

_Leaning down, Matthew gently kissed her forehead, and stared at her face for a long moment, wondering why no more tears would come. Finally, he drew a silver ring from one of the many pockets inside his cloak, and slipped it onto her finger, "I was too slow. Too afraid that you would refuse. I know you can't hear me now, but I won't let that stop me from saying this," taking a deep breath, the spy let four little words that he had rehearsed so many times in his mind flow free, "I love you, Leila. I want you to know that, and always remember it, though I never said it while you were still here. I want you to wait for me, wherever you are." Standing up, he took one last look at the woman he loved before he began to cover her with earth._

_As he finished, he turned his back on the grave and began the walk back to his lord's side, "I'm sure I won't be far behind."_

* * *

Of course, he hadn't expected to live through fighting against someone like Nergal. But, here he was, still alive. The spy began to let his mind wander again, but found his thoughts interrupted by a sharp and entirely too chipper voice.

"Matthew!"

Matthew groaned as Serra picked her way through the mud to come bother him. _Maybe if I just don't answer her, she'll go away._

"There you are, Mr. Mopey! I saw you over here looking so sad, so I decided to come and cheer you up by letting you bask in my beauty! Isn't that generous of me?" Flashing the thief a smile, the annoying cleric fell into step beside him and linked her arm in his, "Here, you can be my escort for the time being. I know you aren't used to such important jobs, so I'll explain it to you. All my escort really has to do, is whatever I say. See, it's really simple. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

With a sigh, Matthew just kept staring at the road ahead, refusing to give her the satisfaction of even rolling his eyes at her, "Shouldn't you be cowering from the rain? Wouldn't want it to mess up your hair or anything." It was, of course, already a bit late for that. Serra, like everyone else, was thoroughly soaked from head to toe, and her pretty pink pigtails were no exception.

To his surprise, the vain cleric simply laughed it off, "Oh don't be silly Mathew. You should know very well that beauty such as mine could never be ruined by something so simple as a bit of rain or mud. Of course, I'll need to dry off and clean up before we reach Pherae. I wouldn't want all of those noblewomen thinking that this was the newest fashion and ruining their best dresses with mud. Not just anyone can pull this off, after all."

Despite his morbid mood, Matthew had to stop and give Serra a completely incredulous look. He could hardly believe the sheer vanity of this woman, speaking as if she were the absolute center of all fashion and culture in the entire world. And of course everyone else already knows it! Finding himself at a loss for words, the spy could only chuckle and shake his head.

Pleased with herself, Serra poked her 'escort' in the ribs, "See? You laughed! You're already feeling better." Looking up at his face, she tried to catch the thief's eye, but he steadfastly looked ahead, refusing to let her see his eyes. "What's wrong with you, anyway? You were all gloomy and snippy the whole way back from Valor, and now that we're back in Lycia, you still aren't any better. You haven't told any stupid jokes, or mouthed off to Lord Hector, or even said anything mean to me for days!"

Matthew groaned and did his best to ignore her. Great, they were worried about him. He didn't want anyone to be worried about him. He didn't want any friends. That's why he sent Guy away. _I hope he's alright. Now that he doesn't have that oathpaper hanging over his head, he should do just fine. I wonder if he'll head back to Sacae, or continue his training somewhere else? Maybe…_ the thief shook his head violently,_ what am I doing? Here I am, worrying about the person I chased away so that I wouldn't care about him! Gah! And now people like Serra are worried about me, when I'm trying to get them all to stay away. It's like everything I'm doing is backfiring on me!_

Serra pursed her lips at Matthew's refusal to acknowledge her. She wasn't used to being ignored, but decided to give him a break and get his attention gently instead of bludgeoning his eardrums, "Matthew? Hello? I asked you a question."

_I just need to keep busy, that's all._ Continuing to ignore Serra, the spy began to plan how to achieve his goals in his mind, _I'll ask Lord Hector for a new mission once we reach Pherae. I can even tell him the truth when he asks why. I just want to keep busy. If I have a goal, a mission, I won't have time to think about Leila. I won't have time to worry about Guy. And I won't be around for these numbskulls to keep trying to make friends…_

Serra was beginning to lose her patience. Whatever had captured Matthew's attention, it certainly wasn't her, as her tall 'escort' continued to stare at the road ahead, even when she addressed him directly! Imagine the nerve of that! Taking a deep breath, the sweet little cleric decided that enough was enough, and he was going to pay attention to her whether he liked it or not,"Matthew? Matthew? **I'M TALKING TO YOU!**"

"Whaaaa!" His thoughts interrupted by a shriek of immeasurable volume in his ear, Matthew almost fell over in shock before jerking his arm away from Serra and dumping her in the mud, "You want me to be mean to you? Fine! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries. Now get lost." Without looking to see if she was alright, he stormed off to the side, ostensibly to scout around, though he really just wanted to be alone.

As the cleric picked herself up out of the mud, she stared at the retreating form of the tall thief while a few tears began to roll down her cheeks, "Matthew? What happened to you?"

* * *

The greeting at Pherae was tearful, both with joy and sorrow. Joy for the return of the young lords and their allies who had set out upon an impossible mission and somehow against all odd had succeeded, and sorrow for those that were lost along the way.

Eliwood, of course, had once again fallen into 'duty before all' mode, and made sure that all of his guests were properly seen to before he even went to greet his mother. Perhaps because he knew that once he did, he wouldn't feel up to dealing with anything else all day. The young lord had much to speak with his mother about. About the past, about the war, and, Eliwood smiled wearily as he finished his thought, about the future. The citizens of Pherae, and other Lycian lords would all insist that he be married soon, and thanks to Grant, he had an idea of how to make sure it was to a woman that he could be happy with. Thinking about the plan, he wondered just what Grant was planning in Bern, not even resting to enjoy his current victory, "How much do we all owe that man?"

Beside him, Hector blinked, "You say something Eliwood?"

"Just idly thinking out loud." Clapping his large friend on the shoulder, the redhead gave another tired smile, "Now, now that I'm back here, I can finally believe that it's over."

Hector scowled, "It may not be. Remember that morph Eagle's news?"

Eliwood blanched, and was about to respond when there was a knock on the door of the study. Deciding to postpone that unpleasant topic, he cleared his throat and answered the door, "Enter."

The door opened, an in stepped someone that Eliwood was very grateful to see, his mother. The Lady Elenora looked much older than the last time Eliwood had seen her. Her face was rather pale, and lined with grief and worry, and her long red hair was streaked with gray. She was thin, as if she hadn't been eating, and it pained the young lord greatly to see his dear mother in such a way. Moving forward, Eliwood gently took his mother's hands, before abandoning all sense of propriety and hugging her tightly, his face buried in her shoulder.

Hector cleared his throat, and made his way towards the door, "I'll leave you to catch up on things. Eliwood, you know where to find me if you need me. And for Elimine's sake, let Marcus and Isadora handle things until I've left. You need the time to rest still."

Pulling himself away from his mother, Eliwood chuckled softly and wiped a tear away from his face, "You would give me orders in my own house Hector?"

"Damn straight I would, and you'll obey them too, if you know what's good for you." Stepping past his friend, Hector stepped out the door with a polite nod to the Lady, and made his exit.

* * *

No sooner had he left the room then Hector's mind was going full tilt, doing his best to make plans and to think of situations before they arose. Already he was missing Grant, never realizing just how much he had come to depend on the Etrurian until he was gone. Still, Eagle had made quite clear that this wasn't over yet. Someone needed to stay on top of things, and Hector was determined that it wouldn't fall on his friend's shoulders. _Eliwood's done enough. I'll handle Nergal this time. As soon as we get back to Ostia, I'll send Matthew out to gather information. I feel bad about not giving him a break, but I don't see much other choice. Hells, I can't even give him a break here._ A small smile managed to escape from the otherwise hard visage of the young lord as he thought of what else he needed Matthew for, _Oh well, I doubt he'll mind being bothered for this._

Hector's long stride quickly carried him to the one place he thought most likely to find his retainer. With polite nods to the guards, he took the stairs to the battlements three at a time, and had his efforts rewarded by the sight of a lone figure standing atop the wall, his ragged brown cloak whipping about the wind as he stared out towards the plains.

Before Hector could even open his mouth, Matthew had turned and hopped down from his perch, "What can I do for you, m'lord? Run a message to Ostia? Go keep an eye on the situation in Bern? Not much for the knights to do now that the war's over, but this is where my work really starts," with an impish smile, that seemed almost out of place on his weary and thin face, Matthew made a flourishing bow, "No rest for the wicked, right m'lord?"

Hector blinked, stricken speechless for a moment by Matthew's forthright attitude. "Uh, right. That's you and me both. But I don't need anything more than some legal advice until we reach Ostia. You can relax at least that long."

Matthew frowned, "Legal advice? Wouldn't you be better off asking Lord Oswin for that, m'lord?"

Hector snorted, "I don't need to know how to follow the law, I need to know how to make it bleed. And for once, an axe doesn't seem up to that task."

Even in his dark humor, Matthew had to chuckle, "Then a very sturdy law it must be, m'lord. So what seems to be the problem?" This was exactly the kind of thing he needed. A distraction, something to take his mind off of things.

"Eliwood has all the details. It's some plan of Grant's that we don't quite know how to work. Let's give Eliwood some time to catch up with Lady Elenora, and we'll talk about it after dinner in the library. In the meantime, go brush up on laws concerning marriage, especially noble marriages."

Matthew just quirked a smile, "This has got to be good. I'll be in the library then, m'lord."

* * *

"Well, how about it then, Matthew? What have you got for us?"

The spy grinned as his lord entered the library, accompanied by Lord Eliwood and Lady Elenora, "Quite a bit, m'lord. I've found all kinds of loopholes, the only trouble is which ones to use. If you'd be so kind as to lay out Grant's plan, I can put the pieces together and make this whole thing work."

With a slight smile, Eliwood sat down, "Thank you Matthew. You've been invaluable to us during the war, and even now you're still doing more than your share. I'd like to apologize for ever doubting you and the necessity of your position."

Absently, Matthew waved off the lord's praise, "Don't worry about it. Now, the plan?"

Chuckling, Eliwood pulled out a bit of paper that he had the foresight to write Grant's instructions down on, "It seems overly simple, but I'm not sure how to go about it. Well, this first part is easy, I just have to knight her. After that though…"

Hector took this opportunity to sit down and put his own two cents in, "After that he's supposed to make her a noble. Something called 'peerage'. I don't remember my brother every doing something like that, or any lord, for that matter. So we don't know how it works."

Nodding, Matthew flipped open one of the many books on law that he had been perusing, "Right here. What peerage basically is, is a lord granting noble status to a commoner. Once Lady Fiora is a noblewoman, you can wed without any trouble at all. Unfortunately, here in Lycia, that requires the approval of at least four other lords on the Lords Council. Obviously Ostia and Caelin won't be a problem. That leaves two more. I suggest Tuscana and Laus."

"Laus!" Hector was on his feet in an instant, slamming his fist on the table, "What makes you think that we'd ask that treacherous son of a bastard snake for help!"

Before Hector could continue on his rant, Lady Elenora put a hand on his arm, "I think I understand what Matthew means. Young Eric will doubtlessly try to play the victim, claiming that he was bullied by his father into this mad scheme."

"That's such a load of..."

"We know, Hector. And so will the other lords. But they won't be willing to disinherit Eric over it. That would set a dangerous precedent."

Matthew nodded, "And say if Master Eliwood here were to put on a show of believing his 'old friend' Eric, in exchange for say, a simple vote of approval so that he can reward a war hero…" Grinning at Eliwood, he winked, "Eric's going to get off the hook no matter what we do, so we might as well turn it to our advantage."

As Eliwood chuckled at the whole thing, Hector sighed, sat back down, and buried his head in his hands, "Blood and thunder, I hate politics."

"You really are starting to sound like old man Fargus."

"Shut it, Eliwood."

* * *

The next morning found the castle back in low spirits, despite the return of the questing heroes. This was the day that the preparations for the funeral of Lord Elbert really got underway, and there wasn't a soul who could manage to be really cheerful about anything.

Matthew was in a slightly better mood than the day before. The distraction was what he needed. Only, it was done with, and now he had no protection from the paths his wandering mind would take. Not to mention that he had spent the entire morning avoiding Serra. It was defiantly time to go, which is why he was already loitering around the front gate, waiting for the lords to come back from their morning ride. He wasn't waiting long, as the cold weather had Hector deciding that it was time to get Eliwood back in the warmth of the castle long before Eliwood himself would admit that he was catching a chill.

A bit confused to see his spy waiting outside, Hector stopped his horse for a moment, waving Eliwood on inside, "Something the matter, Matthew?"

Matthew shook his head, "Nothing urgent, m'lord. But when you have a moment, I'd like to make a request."

Hector blinked and slid down off of his horse, "You're being polite. There is something wrong then. Out with it, I've got a moment now."

"If you say so. Well, I'd like to be given an assignment, then. Someone needs to keep an eye on Bern, and that kind of a job is right up my alley."

Frowning, Hector considered the request, "You want to go off on some mission before even making it home? And Grant's in Bern, anyway. He'll send word to us if anything looks like it's getting out of hand."

Matthew snorted, "I doubt it. He'll say that we've been relying on him too long and need to do it ourselves, whether he's there or not. And I'd rather be working then resting, anyway. This…" the spy paused, and looked his lord in the eye, for just a moment allowing Hector to see what lay behind his eyes right now, "this is how I deal. With everything."

"Hmm, you're probably right," nodding his agreement, Hector knew what Matthew meant. He had gotten to know his spy far better during the course of this war then he had in the years before, and knew that Matthew needed to deal with things in his own way. "I understand. Get going then, head into Bern and keep an eye on the situation there. Don't reveal yourself to anyone there, not even Grant and his forces. Just observe as much as possible, and try to stay out of things. But if you feel like you need to act for Ostia's best interests, then do it. I'll trust your judgment here, so don't go making a mess of things."

"Understood m'lord, no messes. That's your job, after all."

Hector just snorted and handed Matthew the reins of his horse, "Here, take this one. I'll make sure Eliwood is okay with it. Get whatever you need from Merlinus and then get to work. I'll expect regular reports coming into Ostia."

Nodding his thanks, Matthew took the reins of the horse and went to go get all the supplies he would need to make it into Bern. Now that he had the mission, his mind was already running with ideas of the best ways to gather information in Bern without garnering suspicion, what disguises he would need, what lies he would need to spin.

* * *

Only a couple of hours later, a lone horse and rider set out from Pherae, while a two men and a woman watched it go from the battlements of the castle.

"Lord Hector? Are you sure Matthew is alright? He was so different the other day."

"He'll be fine Serra. I hope he finds whatever he's looking for out there."

Serra blinked, "But you said he was going to Bern to spy? Don't you know what he's looking for?"

Beside Serra, Oswin just shook his head, "I'm not surprised you don't understand."

"What don't I understand? Come on, tell meeeeee!"

Sharing a long suffering look, Oswin and Hector turned to head back into the castle while Serra verbally assaulted them from behind…


	7. Guy: Blunted Sword

_Author's Note: Horray for updating, eh? It's been...over a year since I last updated this I believe, and I'm sure everyone's thought it a dead fic. Hell, I thought it was dead myself. But then I got a review today from Anubuko, who just stumbled across it now, and...I dunno. Something hit me. I'd felt like I failed. So I sat down, thought about the story, and said "Screw. That. Noise." I'm not going to let this story beat me. I have a story to tell, and I WILL tell it, come hell or high water. _

_Long story short version: I'm back._

* * *

Chapter 7-Guy: Blunted Sword

It had been nearly a week since Guy left Badon. He had left that night, not being able to bear seeing the others, seeing so many happy friends and comrades together. He couldn't bear to face Rath and have to admit to the older Sacaen that he was wrong about Matthew the whole time, that he really was just being used. But most of all, he couldn't bear to face Matthew again, the only person he had ever really felt close to. Rath and Grant were sort of his friends, but they were always a little distant, always reserved. Even back in Sacae, Guy had never had any real friends. Other warriors his own age were always just fellow students and rivals, and those older then him were his teachers and respected hunters, they never had time for more than a few words of guidance for a young hopeful swordsman. And as for other people, well, Guy would be the first to admit that he just didn't have much in common with those who did not fight. The sword was his life, it's study was his first thought upon waking and it's mastery was his greatest goal. Guy just didn't have any time to make friends with someone who could not appreciate the path he walked.

Not that he was exactly good at making friends with those who did appreciate it, of course. He had always been shy, retreating into his practice and studies as a way of avoiding people, always afraid that others would think poorly of him. But Matthew had cut through all of that. At first it was with his taunting and his underhanded use of the oathpaper, but it became a friendly rivalry and from there a true friendship. Or so Guy had thought.

But he was wrong. Matthew wasn't his friend. He was just like Rath said, a lying scumbag who knew just enough about Sacaen honor and culture to use Guy to his advantage. But why? Why did he need to get that close, just to snatch it all away as soon as the war was over? It didn't make any sense. But a lot of what these Lycians did made little sense. Guy could never understand them. He was just a simple nomad, not noble like Lyn or wise like Rath. He was just Guy, the man who fit in nowhere, and he was alone in the world once again.

Staring up at the nighttime sky, the young swordsman let sleep overcome him as he sank into a deeper and deeper depression, just as he had every night since leaving Badon.

* * *

Awakening to the sound of a carrion bird's call, Guy slowly opened his eyes and wondered what the foul avians were circling.

Much to his surprise…it was him. The sun was already up, and beating down on him from high above, while crows circled, waiting to see if he was going to move or if he was safe to eat.

"Uhhhnnh…" groaning, the Sacaen swordsman tried to get up, but just couldn't. He had no energy. _How did I get like this? It's not like I haven't eaten. I had that rabbit last night, with those…berries. Oh no. Those weren't cherries..._

Managing to summon up enough energy to pull the small, red berries he had saved out of his pocket, Guy brought one up to his face and, with great effort, squeezed some of the juice from it. _Sour smelling. Bitter too. I just thought they weren't quite ripe yesterday! Father Sky, I'm an idiot!_ Indeed, in his depressed state, Guy had forgotten that unripe cherries are green, and he did not notice the other tell-tale signs of the danger from the poisonous little fruits called Birdberries, or Horseberries in Sacae. Should a bird or a horse, or any other animal eat them, the berries are merely sour and a bit unpleasant. But should a human eat them, the unwitting berry picker will quickly find himself drained of strength and energy, horribly bloated and painfully dizzy. Among the nomads, the accidental eating of a horseberry is considered the mark of a rank amateur, and a trap that Guy had never fallen into himself. Until now.

Staring at the crows above him, Guy knew that he had to move soon…or he'd be eaten alive. His instincts for survival cutting through the fog of his depressed mind, he slowly and painfully managed to flip himself over onto his stomach. But as he did, he the world swam around him, forcing him to close his eyes and just lie still for another long moment.

Seeing their meal start to move below them, the crows suddenly became quite noisy, cawing loudly and flapping around rather angrily. In his nearly delirious state, Guy could almost hear them swearing at him to just stop moving and die like a good little meal. The thought made him chuckle, or as much of a chuckle as he could choke out at the moment anyway. Hanging around Matthew for so long had given Guy a bit of the same black sense of humor that the spy was known for.

That thought, of course, drove all humor out of Guy's mind immediately. _Damn it all, I don't understand, Matt! How could be pretend to be my friend for so long, just to do that? You don't like hurting people, you said that before…unless that was a lie too. Was everything you ever said to me a lie?_

Another impatient caw overhead brought the nomad's thoughts back to the present once again. He couldn't afford to get sidetracked or drawn in his own thoughts now. Not with his energy sapped and the hungry birds above him. He had to get moving. To stay still was to die, at this point. The crows weren't going to give up so easily. He knew very well that they'd follow him until he either found shelter or collapsed. And if it were the latter…

Breathing deeply and focusing his energy, Guy forced himself up to his hands and knees, fighting the nausea and dizziness that assaulted him as he moved. With great effort, he put one hand forward, then dragged one leg forward, followed by the other hand and the other leg, ignoring the pain and the insistent cries from above him to just give up. In this manner the proud swordsman crawled, each slow 'step' progressed making his head swim and gut wrench.

_I have to keep moving. One step at a time. Just focus on that._ Keeping his eyes closed, Guy tried everything he could think of to keep his mind off his exhaustion. Focusing on the pain in his hands as he gripped clumps of grass to drag himself forward. Concentrating on the angry cries of the carrion birds to give him a reason to keep moving despite that pain. Mentally repeating training mantras of the Sacae, Marcus's infamous 'knightly honor' speech that every man in the army had to sit through at least twice, and even some of Dart's loud and off key sea chanties. Anything to keep him from thinking about how tired he was. Anything to keep moving. _A man is best known by his enemies, right Marcus? Well right now, my enemies are these crows, so I guess that makes me food that won't stay still long enough to be eaten. Thanks be to Father Sky for making them such cowards, or this pathetic crawling wouldn't stop them. _

Hand after hand, leg after leg, the careless Sacaen crawled forward. Every inch forward sent shooting pains through his arms, his fingers worn raw from endless grasping at anything he could reach to pull himself forward. He had no knowledge of what was before him, or if there was even any help to be found at all. He only knew that he had to keep moving until the point when his body would simply not allow any more movement at all. And at that point, Guy knew with a cold certainty, he would die. For hours he continued on this way, depleted from the poisonous berries, drained from his lack of rest and nourishment, subsisting solely on his pain, the calls of the crows, and a sheer stubborn determination to live.

It would have been easier to lie down and die, certainly. It's not as if there was much point to his life now. He had no family left, and it had been made very clear that he also had no friends. Mastery of the sword was all he really had, and Guy had already seen what lie down that road in Karel's murderous eyes. One could not exist for the sword alone. _So why didn't you just die then? _He had no answer for himself. It certainly would have been the easiest thing to do...but he just didn't want to die. It wasn't fear of death. He got over that long ago, as anyone who reaches that level of skill at battle does. It was simply an inexplicable desire to live. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still wanted to live. _Maybe it's just pride. Nergal and a Dragon couldn't kill me, why should I let some berries and crows have the honor? _

Remembering the fear he felt when facing down Nergal's strongest morphs, the Dark Druid himself, and even the mighty dragon gave Guy a small thrill of excitement, even in his weakened state. That was quite possibly the most intense battle the world had even seen, and even though he had never been more afraid for his life, he had also never felt so alive. _Hah, Matt and I were terrors that day. We cut right through everything that got in front of us. I don't think Nergal himself could have stopped us, if Lord Hector had given him the time to think about anything besides Armads coming his way. ...and here I am thinking about Matthew again. _Shaking off the depressive thoughts that were looming in, Guy just continued putting one hand in front of the other, inch by inch, foot by foot, advancing. _Just keep going. I'll die if I stop. Just keep moving. Not going to be crow food. Just keep going..._

* * *

A large brown dog sniffed the nighttime air curiously. Something wasn't right. He smelled blood. Man's blood. And crows. Something was very definitely not right.

Bounding off in the direction of the smell, the dog starting barking up quite a racket as he went. Sure, that smelled like a while lot of crowd, but ol' Brute hadn't met a bird yet who'd stand it's ground when he came barreling down on it, no matter how many there were.

* * *

He couldn't move anymore. It had been hours since he started this long crawl across the plains, but Guy just couldn't move anymore. His body wouldn't respond. And when the crows came down to take a few experimental pecks, he couldn't even force himself to do more then curse at them with weak shouts and maybe flop once or twice. That backed the crows off once, but they swiftly figured out that he didn't have any worse then that for them, and they came back in, pecking at his arms, tearing at his leathers to get at the flesh underneath. Guy closed his eyes and breathed in as deeply as he could, trying vainly to summon up any last drops of strength from his empty reserves to make just one more wild flail to scare the vile birds off.

But before he could even move, something else set the crows into a riot, making them caw in a panic and take to the air as swiftly as their filthy wings would allow them. Straining to hear what could have just saved his life over the din of crows, Guy heard something that filled him with both hope and dread all at once.

The loud barking of a dog.

_Mother Earth, please let that dog belong to a man. Any man. I'll take slavers at this point, just please don't let that dog be wild..._

* * *

Hah, crows were crows, no matter how many of them there are. They always run. The big dog sent a few more loud barks at the retreating birds for good measure, and then took a closer sniff of the man the crows were pecking at. He was still alive, that was easy enough to figure out. Didn't much look it though.

The obvious thing to do here, of course, was to go bark at his master's door until he came out to do something about it. A half dead man is a problem for another man, not for a dog.

So, being a rather simple creature with a good head for the obvious, that's exactly what ol' Brute went to do.

* * *

A wave of relief swept over the half dead Sacaen as the dog poked him with it's nose a few times, and then ran back off barking loud enough to wake the dead. That meant it was definitely a man's dog, and that with any luck, Guy was saved. But with this relief came the loss of the tension that had kept him awake and moving, causing him to swiftly sink into the embrace of unconsciousness.

* * *

The peaceful quiet of sleep had felt like heaven to the exhausted swordmaster, but waking up was even better by far. Especially waking up in a bed with his wounds mostly bandaged and a wooden mug filled with water sitting on a roughly cut table next to the bed.

Slowly sitting up, Guy ignored the oppressive pain of hunger in his stomach and carefully took the mug in both shaking hands, slowly sipping the clean water within, nearly choking on the first couple of sips. He knew better then to drink quickly after having gone as long as he had without water. It was a testament to Sacaen toughness and his own strength that he was able to sit up and drink at all, after what he had been through.

"Oh, you're awake."

A soft voice from the door almost caused Guy to drop the mug, "Huh?" Looking over towards the door, he saw a young brunette woman standing there watching him with another cup of water in her hands. "Tha...ack..." Guy's voice cracked as he tried to thank her for whatever part she played in saving him, sending him into a coughing fit that did cause him to drop the mug on himself.

Rushing over, the woman grabbed the fallen cup and set the new one on the bedside table, "Don't try to talk. You need to get some water in you, a bit of food, and more rest. We can worry about who you are and what you were doing out there like that later. I'll go get you some broth and let grandpa know you're awake."

Making sure Guy was steady first, the young woman went back out of the room, leaving Guy to his own thoughts. Or lack thereof, right now. All he cared about is that he was safe, alive and in good hands. Once more, it seems as if he'd been bailed out of his own stupid mistakes by a stranger. And a Lycian stranger, at that. Resolving not to follow that line of thought to it's obvious conclusion, Guy simply took the new water cup in hand and did as he was told, slowly drinking the water until the cup was empty, and then lying back down. Sure enough, he was back asleep before the woman could come back with the promised broth.

* * *

"From the looks of ye, I'd say ye gotten into some birdberries that day 'afore I found ye, am I right son?"

Guy winced at the old farmer's accurate assessment of what put him in such a state, "Yes sir."

The old man laughed, "Haw! And I thought you plainsfolk were too smart to get yerselves in a mess like that."

Wincing again, Guy sighed, "So did I. I wasn't thinking straight when I picked those. I'm just glad I survived the mistake. Thank you again for taking me in. For all you knew, I could have been a bandit."

Waving off Guy's thanks, the farmer, Fredrick by name, pushed another small loaf of bread at his guest, "And what if ye had been? Gettin' that cozy with the ol' boneman'll make any man give another thought to his life and how 'es been livin' it. Eat up, boy. Ye've been livin' on naught but broth and water for three days now, ye need somethin' solid in ye."

Nodding, and not about to refuse his host's hospitality, Guy ate everything he was offered with gusto. Once the meal was done, he leaned back in his chair, waiting to make sure he had the strength before standing up and addressing his host, "I know I've already said this a dozen times, but thank you again. Is there anything I can do? I need to repay you for saving me, somehow."

Looking Guy up and down, Fredrick nodded, "I imagined you'd say somethin' like that. I've heard about how all ye plainsfolk are supposed to be honorable sorts. Tell me, can ye work? Ye're kinda small..."

With a chuckle, Guy nodded, "I'm not that big, but I'm strong enough. And yes, I can work. I don't know how to do any farmwork, but I can follow instructions well enough."

"Well that settles it then. Ye can stay here and work for me until ye think ye've paid me back, and until ye figure out what ye're gonna do with yerself next. Ye can stay in the same room ye've been stayin' in. Now go get some sleep, we're gonna be up and workin' afore the sun even rises, ye hear?"

Guy laughed, thinking that old Fredrick here might be in for a surprise when Guy gets up before he does, "That won't be a problem."

* * *

_So here we go with Guy's first solo chapter. Hope you all didn't mind me swapping to the dog's PoV for a bit, the idea just struck me as too amusing not to do. From here out, the focus will be alternating between the Shadow chapters, and the Sword chapters, so it's kind of two stories in one, they're just connected. How so? Well, stick around. I'm not going to stop until you all get to find out._


	8. Matthew: Shadow's Ruse

_Author's Note: Certainly been awhile, hasn't it? I've made getting this story done my new year's resolution. One chapter a month, without fail. If I don't manage it, feel free to pelt me with internet stones for my failure._

* * *

Matthew: Shadow's Ruse

Merlinus wasn't too horribly pleased with how thoroughly Matthew had picked through his entire stock for exactly the right supplies for his mission, nor was he entirely happy with how much the spy ended up taking. But Merlinus never had much cared for Matthew, and the feeling was certainly mutual. Still, for all of his distaste for the blubbering suck up of a merchant, Matthew had to admit that he kept a good stock and ran an efficient caravan.

Which is probably what made it all the more annoying for him when Matthew systematically picked through everything and messed up his careful organization. But regardless of how much it inconvenienced the merchant, Matthew had a job to do, and he'd be damned if he was going to give it anything but his entire focus.

That was kind of the point, after all.

Setting out on his horse(not the one Lord Hector gave him, of course. That one had the arms of house Pherae branded clear as day on it's shoulder and was too obviously a noble's horse. Matthew traded that one out for a less noteworthy working man's horse with no branding at all), which was a bit loaded down with gear, provisions and money, the canny spy set off for Bern. There was bound to be trouble brewing in the country that Nergal worked the largest part of his evil in, and Matthew was just the man to ferret it out and keep Lord Hector apprised of the situation before anything got out of hand. Of course, the first order of business was to figure out how to go about obtaining this information.

Mulling over some ideas as he rode, Matthew came to the conclusion that he had a few options open to him, depending on what kind of information he was looking for...and what level of danger he was willing to put himself in. Naturally, the better information, such as that which would come from the nobility and upper ranks of the military, carried with it the greatest danger. Generals and their like tended to handpick their staff, and not leave room for any potential spies to work their way into positions where they would be able to hide in plain sight. Not that such a task was beyond Matthew's abilities of course, but it would take quite a while to finagle his way into position, and even once he was there, the danger would still be extremely present. There are reasons why the men who know the most tend to have elite bodyguards, after all.

A better option might be to try the lower ranks of the army. Not enlisting, certainly, but managing to find some role to play that would allow him access to the rank and file, without being one of them. Especially if he could work his way into a place where he would be encountering the soldiers while they were off duty. Off duty soldiers liked to gossip as much or more then small town matrons around the village well, and Matthew was skilled enough in the arts of rumormongering that he could likely glean the true tidbits of knowledge from the dross and outright bull. He would be able to keep a much lower profile while rubbing elbows with the grunts then he could with the officers, so that would certainly be safer, though not completely safe. He would still be surrounded by enemy soldiers, should someone figure him out and raise the hue and cry.

The last of the options he had, was the one he honestly liked the least. Keeping to the common populace and picking up the rumors from them, as well as greasing the occasional palm of an enlisted man to bring him better news, was certainly a far sight less hazardous then getting into the middle of anything, but that was part of the problem. It was too safe. Pulling this kind of super cautious job is the mark of an amateur who can't get themselves into a better position with a higher chance of reward. For someone of Matthew's skill to play it that safe would be nothing short of outright cowardice, in his opinion. But if security even around the rank and file was too tight, then he might not have another choice. Good thing he was never much the type to care about labels like cowardice then.

Continuing to think in this vein, weighing his various options and plots for infiltrating the informational structure of Bern, the lone Ostian made his way northward to Tania. From there, he could take a pass through the mountains to Bern.

* * *

_Lovely. Just bloody lovely. _Staring at the mountain pass between Tania and Bern, Matthew was not particularly pleased with what he saw. Rocks, and lots of them, were now blocking off the path he was planning on using. And it looked like they'd been there for awhile. _A rockslide. This is exactly what I needed right now, what with the time sensitive mission and all. Praise to St. Elimine. _Keeping his vaguely blasphemous thoughts to himself, the spy simply sat atop his horse and eyed the blocked pass for a bit, looking for any way that one man, and hopefully one horse, could make it across without killing themselves.

"Another traveler caught unawares by the rocks, eh son?"

Matthew's attention was swiftly brought back to his surroundings by the voice of an older man, and he put on a slightly sheepish expression while inwardly berating himself for his inattentiveness as he turned to face his unexpected company, "Haha, guess I was. Just came here by way of Santaruz, and news that the pass was blocked hadn't gotten that far, I guess."

The old man nodded, stroking his beard, "Not a surprise. The only horses in this little town are the ones travelers bring with 'em. I don't suppose you'd be any more willing to turn around and ride the news back to civilization then any of the other lads we've had trying to get through to Bern, hmm?"

Sizing the old man up as he spoke, Matthew dropped further into his character and even relaxed a bit when it became obvious the old timer was no threat to him. He was rather thin, but still looked strong enough for someone his age. A bent back and hands covered with old calluses betrayed that he still worked for a living. Shaking his head apologetically, Matthew did what was expected of him and declined the joking request, "Sorry old timer, I'll just have to let the next guy be as surprised as me. I've got family over in Bern, y'see. Need to get out to 'em as quick as I can."

Chuckling, the old man bobbed his head again, "S'about what I expected. Everybody's got a reason they need to be in Bern by yesterday. I expect the other end's having the same trouble with people who want to get outta that place soon as they can. Makes more sense then people wanting in, considering what's been going on over there."

Matthew nodded along with the old man, keeping himself relaxed and agreeable while he started to think of how to work some questions into his conversation, "Well, can't speak for the others, but family is where family is, and not much you can do about it." Casting an irritated gaze at the pile of rocks, he decided to take a chance with the direct approach this time, "Don't suppose you know any little one-horse-paths or the like I could squeeze through on, do you?"

Shaking his head, the old man had only poor news to deliver, "Afraid not, son. There are other paths of course, but to be honest you'd have to be a goat to cross 'em."

Having expected as much, Matthew nodded and grinned rather irreverently, "Happen to know where I can trade a horse for a riding goat then?"

* * *

Laughter echoed through the small, but crowded, tavern as the old man told his story between swallows of ale, "And then, quick as you please, the lad asked me where he could trade his horse for a riding goat! Can you believe that?" slapping Matthew's back, he laughed even harder, "Imagine this tall young man right here riding up the mountain on goat-back! Hah!"

Matthew kept his patented Like A Fool grin on his face while he laughed along with everyone else and fished out a couple more rather grimy coins to buy another drink for the old man. Matthew, of course, was still on his first.

After Matthew befriended the old man with his silly quip and simple demeanor, he struck gold by asking if there was a place to have a drink while he figured out what to do next. As luck would have it, there was. And what a place, at that. Under normal circumstances, this dinky little Tavern At The Pass(yes, that was it's name. The owner was obviously quite an original chap) wouldn't even rate a second glance, as a likely place for either drink or information, from the lanky spy. But right now, with the pass blocked, the Tavern was filled with all kinds of disgruntled travelers. From those trying to get home, to peddlers, to even the odd mercenary trying to reach Bern to find work, the place was positively bursting at the seams with patrons. And with that many travelers, all displeased with the current situation and drinking their irritation away, well let's just say this is the kind of informational gold mine that spies like Matthew love finding.

Too bad it was on THIS side of the Lycia-Bern border.

Still, there was a lot he could learn here just by purchasing a few drinks and telling some lame jokes. Thankfully, coin and lowbrow humor were both things the spy had in abundance(though he certainly didn't let the former show too much), so within an hour of sitting down, Matthew had managed to attract a small group of men, all more then willing to have a drink on the tall young man's dime and lament about the road being blocked off.

* * *

"So like I was saying," one of Matthew's newest 'friends' said for the third time in one minute, "there's another way over into Bern if you're willin' to risk bandits. Gotta head up into Araphen and slide through a corner of Sacae to do it though. Araphen's a bit of a wreck these days and who knows what goes through the heads of those savages, right?" The man spit in a nearby bucket to emphasize his opinion of the Sacaens before taking another swig of the swill he was drinking.

Nodding along like he agreed wholeheartedly with the man's sentiments, Matthew managed to avoid rolling his eyes at the ignorant fool. He already knew about heading up through Araphen way, and had already considered doing that himself, but he hadn't heard about the territory lapsing into a bad state. Even as skilled as he was, it probably wouldn't do to travel in a bad place alone if he could help it. Even he had to sleep sometime.

But even more interesting then the news itself, was seeing how his fellow stuck travelers reacted to it. Most nodded along passively as Matthew himself had done, or just shrugged away the concept of heading up through Sacae as if it were completely out of the question. But one gentleman seemed to be paying a bit closer attention to that news. Perhaps even seriously considering it himself. Sizing the man up, Matthew took note of everything about him. His dress, his posture, his speech patterns, even down to the type of liquid refreshment he seemed to prefer.

Paying only partial attention to the conversation that followed, the spy took his time studying the man who was interested in the northern pass. This might just be the ticket he was looking for, but caution was the rule of his life. _Hmm, dressed well for the road. His clothes have seen their share of travel, that's for certain. Plenty of pockets and a sturdy fabric, that's dressed for utility and comfort more then looks. Carrying some extra pounds on him, means he's likely got a cart instead of riding or walking. Very neutral accent, wonder if he trained it out of his voice? He looks Lycian enough, but I can't peg the territory. Drinking wine, not ale or beer, and he's only had a couple more then I have. Not slurping it up like the rest of these lunkheads. Doesn't look dangerous, but all that means is that if he is a threat, he'll be a nasty one. Smart money says he's a peddler, though. I think I can use this._

Nodding along through the next few minutes of conversation, Matthew waited until someone else mentioned Araphen again to play his next card. Listening to one man talk about how the Marquis had taken ill and a good number of his own troops were taking advantage of this to play the bandit, he shook his head and let slip his carefully considered phrasing, "Soldiers gone to brigands? That's a damned shame and that's the truth. Place certainly sounds like it's gone to the wolves since last I heard any news about it. I sure wouldn't wanna head up through that mess by my lonesome, though I might give it a thought if there was a few others wanting to go as well." Taking a sip of his own drink he shrugged and added, "Safety in numbers, right? And dangerous or not, it sounds like it might be the only way across for a good while. Don't know about anyone else, but after all the stuff that's been going on, I can't imagine any of the lordships around here will be going out of their way to get a pass to Bern open anytime soon."

No few snorted in agreement at that, though nobody leapt to their feet to accept his offer or anything. That's alright, he wasn't expecting any immediate responses anyway. He was pleased to notice the man he'd pegged as a peddler sizing him up from the corner of his eye. Not wanting to scare the man, or to let on that he himself was more then he seemed, Matthew pretended not to notice he was being appraised. Instead, he grabbed his own cup, and a few more empty mugs to clear space, and walked up to the bar to see about getting some food. Even if everything went perfectly, he certainly wasn't getting out of here before morning at least.

* * *

Sleeping in the stable with his horse wasn't really the best way for someone as sensitive to noise as Matthew to get any rest, but it still beat sleeping on the open road. Well, except for the smell, that is. Between the noises the animals made, the snoring of the other travelers forced to share stable space with their beasts for lack of room, and the occasional person going in and out of the stable at odd times of the night, Matthew wondered how he got any sleep at all. Still, when the fact that it was morning was made quite evident by a local rooster, the Ostian found that he was considerably more well rested then he expected to be, and got himself up and out of the stable before the others he was sharing with started crowding the door.

No sooner had he gotten out of the stable and brushed himself off, then he spied the peddler fussing with his own horse by the side of the tavern. Taking advantage of opportunity where he found it, Matthew mosied on over that way, waving a greeting when he got close, "Mornin'. Looks like I'm not the only early riser here, eh?"

Acknowledging Matthew's presence with a nod, the peddler kept seeing to his horse's morning feed, "I suppose not. I've never been able to sleep much past dawn myself."

Matthew chuckled, _Heh, that sounds like...ugh. Focus._ Keeping a smile on his face, though his humor was now entirely feigned, the spy cast a wondering gaze towards the tavern door, "Hey, you come from inside? Know if they've got anything to eat ready yet?"

The peddler shook his head, "Afraid I don't, no. Wasn't in time to get a room myself, either. My man Jake and I slept in my cart."

"Fair enough. I guess I'll just go see for myself." As he made his way to the door, Matthew schooled his expression to stop the real smile from creeping out. _Heh, 'random' comment about having a guard, eh? Yeah, I think he's the real deal. Excellent. _

A luck would have it, there was in fact some simple bread to be had this early, and that with some water was all Matthew really needed, or even wanted for that matter. Taking his breakfast, he wandered back outside and found himself a small stump to sit down on while he ate, and watched the peddler out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, the man cast a few looks his way, and eventually dusted his hands off and cautiously approached.

"Erm, excuse me, but you're the young man who was talking about wanting to take the northern pass yesterday, aren't you?"

Matthew shrugged, "I suppose so. Wouldn't say I want to take it, though. Just doesn't seem like much of any other way to Bern right now."

The peddler nodded, as if that was what he expected to hear. Matthew hoped it was, at least, as that's precisely why he said it. "I'm considering taking that route myself, actually. I don't relish the thought of bandits, but I have business to do in Bern and every day I delay it is more money I'm not making." Pausing a moment to see that he still had Matthew's attention, the man saw that he did and continued, "Look, I'll cut straight to the point here. If you're at all handy with that sword you carry, I could use an extra guard. I won't be paying you much, but you'll have more then just yourself on the way up through Araphen and Sacae, and you'll get to Bern alot faster then if you waited here."

Pretending to think it over for a moment, Matthew eventually nodded, "Wasn't expecting to work my way across, but I'll not turn down a chance for some extra coin where I can get it. How much is not much, here?"

"Half of what I'm paying Jake. Traders guild rules say that's the most I can pay someone who isn't one of us, you know."

Matthew did know, but he shook his head like it was a foreign language regardless, "That so? Well, I'll take your word for it. I've got nothing to do with any guilds, just a coppersmith's apprentice. And yeah, I'm no master or anything, but I'm not bad with a blade. Been between Bern and Lycia more then once, figured I may as well learn how to protect myself."

The peddler's reaction, a bit of relief and a look as if he were already counting the coins waiting for him in Bern, was exactly what Matthew was hoping for. Standing up, he offered the man his hand, "Name's Mathias, I'm from out Santaruz way. Seeing as I'm gonna be working for you for the trip, should I be callin' you sir, boss or what?"

Shaking Matthew's hand, he shook his head, "Ranad will be fine. I only require formality from professionals. They're being paid well enough for it, after all. Well Mathias, I hope you find leaving today to be suitable? I think two guards should be enough to get us through, we won't be looking for fights after all, and I'd like to leave as soon as possible."

Matthew nodded amicably, though he had his own doubts about whether two guards would be enough or not. Well, if push came to shove, Ranad here was getting far more then he was paying for. He just hoped that it didn't come to it, as he'd prefer to refrain from displaying his full skill while there were people who he didn't intend to kill around. A fighting style like his was something people talked about, and the last thing he wanted was having his swordsmanship, or anything about him for that matter, as the topic of tavern conversation.

Fetching his own horse as he worked over ideas for avoiding ambushes, and lies to justify his knowledge of such things, the lanky spy joined up with Ranad and his wagon and made ready to hit the road.

* * *

_Well, maybe two guards will be enough..._ Some of Matthew's doubts about handling any brigands that caught them were dispelled upon meeting Jake face to face. Or face to pectoral muscle, would be more accurate. Matthew was a rather tall man, but the professional guardsman stood head and shoulders above him and was nearly as broad as he was tall.

This did not make Matthew any more comfortable about the trip, considering he neither liked nor trusted this man. It's not that Jake wasn't friendly. Heck, Raven was about the furthest thing from friendly you could get and still be an ally, but Matthew got along with him just fine. No, it was that Jake's friendliness was a rather obvious facade. Or at least it was obvious to Matthew. Ranad didn't seem to pick up on the large man's hidden mannerisms. He seemed to trust Jake just fine and Matthew didn't quite know how to mention that he thought the big man wasn't entirely on the up and up.

_Y'see, that professional that you're paying twice what I'm getting? Well, I think he's a rat-fink and think it'd be best if we sent him out for some firewood one evening and then ditched him as soon as he was gone. Yeah, that'd go over real well. _Frankly, there just didn't seem to be a good way to bring what he suspected of Jake to the trader's attention without giving himself away. And even then, there was no real reason for the man to take his word for it, and his word was all he had.

So he kept his opinions to himself, just smiled and shrugged whenever the large man decided to strike up conversation. This was hardly the first time Matthew had played the role of a country bumpkin, so it was easy enough to keep in character. Easy enough to disguise the fact that for all his size and might, Jake wasn't the most dangerous man here, not by a long shot.

* * *

"This is the life, eh boy?" Jake laughed as he took one last swig from his wineskin before getting back on the road, "Nothing but the open road, the empty sky and a profit to be made at every stop!"

Finishing off the last of his own lunch, Matthew had to smile at least a bit, "Think I prefer a roof and a good fire at the end of the day, but I had forgotten how much I liked traveling."

"Hmm." Musing over a thought, Jake was silent for a good few minutes, until they had gotten properly back on the road. After a bit he struck up the conversation again, "So, you said you've been 'tween Lycia and Bern a few times, eh?"

Matthew inwardly groaned, though he was visibly nodding, "Yup. Santaruz to Bern and back again a couple times. Never in a group this small though, always took up with real caravans and the like." _Same answer I gave you when you asked the same question three days ago, moron. Could you possibly be any more blatant about priming me for information?_

"Ever given thought to the life of a guard or a trader then, lad? It's a good life, if you're willing to risk a bit."

_Now that's a new question. _Matthew was quiet a moment, seeming to give the question some actual weight, then shook his head, "Eh, I don't think it's for me. I'm willing to risk some coins on a dog race or drinkin' game, sure. But putting my life on the line for coin isn't something I think I could do for long." Putting on a chipper grin, he added, "besides, I've put too many years into learning copper to change careers now. Uncle says I'm as good as most journeymen, really. Well, when he's not too busy yelling at me for little mistakes."

Jake's reply, if there was going to be one, was cut off when Ranad called out, "Jake! What do you think, are we almost out of Araphen?"

The big man nodded, "Should be. The Sacaen border can't be too much further. We should reach it by nightfall."

Ranad nodded but sighed all the same, "Keep your eyes open then, gentlemen. We've only run into one spot of trouble here, but I don't' expect the real risk to start until we enter the plains."

"Speaking of," Jake looked back to Matthew, "you handled yourself pretty well back there. I was half expecting that sword to be just for show, but you managed that bandit just fine."

Shrugging, the spy suppressed a chuckle at remembering how he'd had to actively try not to just kill the one man who rushed him, "Yeah, and you handled the other three. Never seen that kinda power put behind a sword before. Most big guys I've seen go for axes, come to think of it. Isn't a sword a little light for you?"

Drawing his giant iron blade from it's sheathe, Jake held it out at arm's length and smiled a rather unpleasant smile, "Not if you know the right smiths. Besides, the sword is the king of weapons, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Axes are for brutes with no skill and spears are for nameless infantry. And don't get me started on archers."

"Heh. I just picked up the sword since that's what the old man down the street could teach me. Used to be a soldier or something, never got his whole story." It never ceased to amuse Matthew when he was able to pull out bits from his real life for one of his covers. Long before he was a loyal man of Ostia, he was a simple boy in a simple town. And the old retired soldier who lived down the street was more then happy to teach the young men of the town which end of a sword to hold.

Putting a mental cork in his little trip down memory lane, Matthew went back to the conversation with Jake, slipping in as many 'innocent' questions about the large man's fighting career as he thought he could get away with. Fortunately for him, Jake was a rather typical merc in one regard: he did so love to brag. As the miles stretched on, the spy was treated to tales of valor and daring-do. Some of which might have even been true.

* * *

They had passed into the plains near evening, and at Jake's insistence, pushed onward a few hours past the border. According to the large man, the worst raiding was always right on the border. Ranad didn't like pushing on too much after dusk, but he trusted his guard to know his work. And besides, that was certainly a reasonable sounding statement.

It was also full of horse shit.

Having begun to wonder if Jake was actually up to something or was just a sleeze pretending to be a nice guy, every last alarm in Matthew's head was ringing after that suggestion. He was up to something. There had to be a reason Jake wanted them past the border, and Matthew had any number of guesses as to what it could be. But when Jake asked him if he could handle the first watch tonight, it made one thing very clear.

No matter what his ultimate objective was, Jake intended to kill him, and he intended to do it tonight.

_Want me as tired as possible, do you? Too bad for you I've pulled all-nighters and still been in killing form the next day more then once. _Matthew had a little bit of work to be about while he was the only man awake, and he needed to do it as quietly as possible. A good thing that quiet happened to be one of his specialties.

It was a small matter to rig the wheels of the cart so they wouldn't move, even after the usual wedges were removed. He could easily fix his little bit of sabotage in the morning, of course, and this would prevent Jake from just running off with the cart. Not that Matthew really expected him to do that(at least not before trying to kill him), but he didn't get where he was today by not being paranoid.

The second order of business was to sneak over and take a look at something that bugged him a bit while they were making camp. A spot of land that caught his eye. Something about how it met the horizon set off his alarms, as if it was more then it seemed. Slinking his way over, the spy saw through the optical illusion of the land once he got close enough. Hidden in the tall grass of the plains was a large dip in the ground. In which three men were making a rough and lightless camp. Three armed men.

Quietly sliding away before the one who was awake saw him, Matthew didn't know whether to curse his ill fortune for falling in with a bandit in disguise or marvel at Ranad's good luck for picking up Matthew of all people. His original plan of letting Jake take his watch, pretending to sleep and seeing what the large man did wouldn't work now. Not if he had help already stashed nearby. If there was any way that the he and the trader were going to survive this, he had to act quickly...and coldly.

_Can I seriously just do this? There's a chance...there's a chance this is all a coincidence. That he's not in on it._ Observing Jake's sleeping form, Matthew silently debated his best course of action. _There's a chance that he's not actually a bad guy. He hasn't actively done anything yet. Nothing besides be damn suspicious. And I mean really damn suspicious. I could be killing an innocent man. But if he is what I think he is... _He noted Jake's muscles, his size. Remembered the ease with which he held that sword, the pure power he used to dispatch those clumsy bandits back in Araphen. _...if he is, can I afford to let him wake up?_

* * *

"Wake up, and if you value your life, keep quiet." Just in case Ranad didn't seem inclined to follow Matthew's advice, he was holding the trader's mouth shut as he spoke.

"Mph! Mff..." Ranad's eyes snapped open, his initial look of surprise quickly replaced by mixed fear and anger.

Sighing, as he about expected this, Matthew kept his voice low and tried to explain, "Jake led us into an ambush. I caught it and took steps to ensure it failed. But there are still three bandits out there who don't know their inside man is dead. If you want to get out of here alive, you're going to need to do exactly as I say, and be very, very quiet. I'm going to take my hand off your mouth now. I swear if you scream or make noise I'm going to bolt and leave you to the bandits."

As he removed his hand, Matthew was quite relieved to see the trader nod very slowly, though the look of suspicion still hadn't left his eyes. That was fine by him, Matthew didn't need the man to trust him completely right now, just enough to follow directions. Pointing off towards the dip, he explained in hushed tones, "See where the grass doesn't look quite right? There's a dip there, and three brigands are waiting in it. They've got a nice little camp set up. My guess is that they're just waiting for the signal. But if it doesn't come soon enough, I bet they'll come out looking for the reason it's late. And we don't want to be here when that happens."

Ranad squinted his eyes and stared at the area that was pointed out, then widened them in surprise when he managed to see the dip, "How did you know all that? How do I know you're not the bandit? You're not any coppersmith, that's certain."

Shrugging, Matthew gave him the obvious answer, "You know I'm not the bandit because you're still alive. I could have killed you in your sleep as easy as wake you. And no, I'm not. My name is...Raven, I'm a mercenary in the employ of Mage General Pent of Etruria and I've been entrusted with a message for someone in Bern. Sorry for the deception, but when you travel alone like this it's best to try and appear as unassuming as possible." Looking Ranad dead in the eyes, Matthew was quite thankful that he could maintain any expression he wanted no matter what lies he was spinning, "You can believe that or not, but unless we move soon then we're both going to die. I hope you believe that much at least."

It was a flimsy story, of course, but it did hit all the right notes with the peddler. It explained why 'Mathias' wasn't too willing to talk about himself, why he was able to handle the bandit early, and why he could spot this ambush. Even though it wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny, it gave all the answers Ranad needed to hear right now, which was why the man relaxed after a moment of thinking and nodded again.

Then he did the one thing Matthew did not want him to do: start moving for the cart.

Quickly snapping out his hand to catch the merchant's shoulder, Matthew shook his head hastily, "Not a good idea. They'll hear the cart moving and I'm not sure I can kill three men. Sorry, but I'm not going to risk the Lord's letter to save your goods."

Ranad's face fell, "What? But...this is all that I have! You're suggesting we just run away and leave my entire business behind?"

"We can't outrun them with the cart. Let's get to the horses and just take them, I didn't see any horses in their camp so they'll never catch up to us if we're mounted."

The merchant thought for a moment, but Matthew could see in his eyes that his mind was made up. And sure enough, Ranad shook his head, "I'm sorry. Thanks for the warning, but I have to take my chances. If I lose this profit then I'm as good as dead anyway. Look, if you help me here I'll pay you everything I was going to pay Jake. I don't know what his lordship is paying you, but this is a fair amount of money on top of that."

Matthew bit down on the sigh that threatened to escape. He wanted to help the man, but there was no real way to save him from his own folly here. "Not against three men when I don't know their skill. I'm good, but I'm not that good." Pointing at the wheels, he added, "I saw Jake put blocks under the wheels before he went to sleep. That's what tipped me off. Good luck running then, I'm getting out of here."

He waited a moment for the man to change his mind, but as Ranad went to free the wheels from the blocks Matthew put there, the spy just said a quick prayer in his mind and slipped away. While he wasn't sure he could outfight anyone Jake picked to work with him on his own, he was quite sure that they would never find him in the planes. Above and beyond anything else, stealth was Matthew's strongest skill.

So when he wanted to simply disappear...he did.

* * *

_Author's Footnote: Yeah, I know that's a bit of a cliffhanger ending there. But I think that style works well with Matthew. Off screen action also works well with him. You know Jake is dead from what he says to the merchant, but do I really need to describe the event? I don't think so, it's enough to know that Matthew will kill someone in cold blood like that. It's a difficult balance to strike between having him be One Of The Good Guys and also a thief/spy/assassin, so things like this come up._

_And as always, please excuse spelling/grammar/etc errors. I run it through a spell checker but that doesn't stop me from using the wrong correctly spelled word._


	9. Guy: Masterless Sword part 1

Chapter 9-Guy: Masterless Sword

*thunk* *thunk* *thunk*

The steady sound of an axe splitting wood was the only thing that could be heard as worked right through the still heat of the day. And really, that was the way he liked it. The silence helped him focus on the rhythm of his work, the steady rise and fall of the axe replacing all other thoughts.

Lift. Place. Split. Clear. Lift. Place. Split. Clear.

So easy to get absorbed in such a simple task, to let the peaceful simplicity of the repetition just take over his mind. There was nothing there but himself, the wood and the axe. Nothing else to worry about, nothing else to think about. That suited Guy just fine. Thinking was one thing he tried to avoid these days.

There were so many things to think about. So many problems. The past, Matthew, Grant, his own stupid mistakes. And the future, what to do once he left the farm, what path to take, what his own goals even were anymore. The past was painful and the future uncertain, both could consume his thoughts in a moment without even knowing what to think about either one.

So Guy kept his mind in the present. There was a lot of work to be done on a farm, and many things had been left undone for quite some time. Like building up a proper supply of firewood.

The sounds of the axe continued to fill the air as the young man searched for serenity in the labor. Lift. Place. Split. Clear. Lift. Place. Split. Clear.

* * *

The old farmer frowned a bit as he came out of the cow's stable to the sight of his granddaughter watching the boy at his work. It's not that he had any dislike for the lad. Quite the opposite, actually. He was honest, he worked hard and he had a kind heart, it was hard not to like him. But old Fredrick had met his like before. the boy was a hero if he'd ever met one.

Walking up to Emily's side, the old man broke the silence, though he kept his voice low, "Boy's at the firewood again, is he?"

Without even looking at her grandfather, Emily nodded, "He seems so troubled. I wonder what he's thinking about?"

_You mean you wonder if he's thinking about you, ya fool girl_. Fredrick didn't have the heart to speak his mind to his granddaughter, but he couldn't just let her sit there and daydream. There was work to be done, afterall. "Gettin' about time to start dinner, innit?"

Emily flushed a bit and bobbed her head, "Oh, yes. I was just fetching some water for the stew." Before the old man could say another word, she ducked off to the well to get the water.

Letting out a sound that was half sigh and half grumble, Fredrick moved on to the chicken pen to continue his own work. He felt bad for the girl, but she was already set on getting her heart broken. Heroes don't settle down with farmgirls, afterall. No matter how many romantic wishes the farmgirl dreams up.

* * *

"Been two weeks a'ready, hmm?" Fredrick used his last chunk of bread to soak up the remaining broth from his stew as he spoke, keeping half an eye on the boy's expression as he brought up the uncomfortable subject. "I've heard you plainsfolk cin get sticky 'bout yer honor, but I reckon ye've got t' know ye've paid me back by now?"

"Uh..." Just as Fredrick expected, Guy didn't seem to be very happy to hear the subject come up. He'd been avoiding talking about that, or really any plans at all for the future for awhile now.

Rubbing his neck in a bit of embarrassment, Guy nodded, "Yeah, you're right. I guess you'll be wanting me to move on tomorrow?"

The old man didn't even need to look to the third seat at the table to know what his granddaughter's expression was right now. But the farmer ignored her for a bit and shook his head at Guy's assumption, "Ain't that, son. Keep workin' like ye 'ave been and yer welcome t' stay long as ye like." Looking up, he made eye contact with the swordsman, "But if yer gonna be stayin' much longer, I'd at least like t' know why? This ain't the life a man with yer skills dreams about. Have ye really nowhere t' be goin'? Are ye hidin' from summat?"

"Am I what?" Guy's expression and tone were somewhere between confused and angry at the question, "No, I'm not hiding from anyone. I'm not some kind of criminal or anything."

That reaction got a laugh out of Fredrick, "Calm down son, the law ain't the only thin' out there men hide from. But I git what ye' mean." Finishing his meal, the farmer let the silence grow a bit, giving the young man time to volunteer an answer on his own. But he only sat there uncomfortably, troubled with whatever thoughts were going through his head. Leaning back in his chair, he gave a nod to his granddaughter, "Ere'ones done, so clear the table, girl."

She looked angry herself, of course. Fredrick knew she would. But she was raised better then to make a scene and did as she was told, leaving the men alone in the room for a moment.

As Guy started to stand from the table, Fredrick motioned him to stay seated, "All that tells me is why yer not here, son. Ye still ain't said a thin' about why ye are. Do ye want to be a farmer, son?"

Guy shook his head, "Not really, no. I just...don't know where I should go next. I don't have any family anymore. Or any friends."

"None? There's ne' anyone out there who'd welcome ye? Yer a soldier, right? No old comrades who'd be glad t' see yer blade?" The farmer paused a moment, then took a stab at a guess, "Or is that th'life yer wantin' t'leave behind?"

The young man was quiet. Fredrick could tell he was thinking now, which was enough for now. Standing up from his seat, he grabbed his coat to go out and see to some evening chores. As his guest cast him a surprised look, the old farmer gave him a nod, "Ye don't have t'answer me this second. But think on it. And try mendin' the fence come morning, I think the woodpile's seen enough a'ye for a bit."

* * *

Guy turned a critical eye on the mended fence posts as he stepped back from the last one. Well, not overly critical, he was hardly an expert in the field of repairs. But it all looked sturdy enough, which was enough for him. He'd worked right though the heat of the day without pause to finish it before nightfall, and though he was now fairly exhausted he considered the effort worth it. The fence had been fairly bad, it's repairs just one more of the things that had gone undone here for so long.

Turning back towards the house, Guy was surprised to see Emily at the edge of the walk, seemingly waiting for him. He'd noticed her watching him before, of course. You don't live very long as a warrior if you aren't observant, a fact that the horseberries hammered back into his skull with a vengeance. He pretended not to notice, of course. He'd never been very comfortable around girls, and it wasn't like he didn't have enough else to think about right now anyway.

Of course now that she was standing right there in plain sight it would be a little difficult to pretend not to see her. So he just waited for her to say something first.

He didn't have to wait too long, as she took a few steps towards him, almost a bit hesitatingly. Guy wasn't an expert judge of people, but he knew what fear looked like at least and this wasn't it. Was she nervous? A girl nervous about talking to him? That's new, normally it's the other way. Put a bit off balance by the unfamiliarity of the situation, Guy nodded a greeting and broke the ice, "Oh, um, is it dinner time already?"

Emily nodded back, "Yeah, it's been ready a bit. Grandpa said to let you finish your work first, though."

Guy inwardly winced at just how well the old farmer had him figured sometimes. If he left the job unfinished it would have been bugging him the entire meal. "Um, right. Well, thanks. I'll head inside now."

He started to hurry past her toward the house, but stopped when she called out from behind him.

"Are you really leaving?"

Guy looked up at the sky in silence. He hadn't said he was yet, but he knew he couldn't stay here much longer. The old man really was right, this wasn't the life for him. He may have lost everything else, but he still had the sword. He still had his dream.

Turning around to face her, he nodded, "Yeah. Tomorrow, maybe the next day."

Emily's voice was quiet, but he could still hear her clearly over the still evening, "You don't have to go. Grandpa would never admit it, but there's alot he can't do anymore. I'm not really strong enough for men's work either, and it ain't like Brute can help us with more then scaring off crows and wolves. You'd make a good farmer, Grandpa could teach you everything."

A good farmer? Guy actually had to laugh at that idea, getting a strange look from Emily as he did. "Maybe I could, but I don't think I'd like it. I just...don't really care about the land like that. I give thanks to Mother Earth and Father Sky like all my people, but that's about it." Looking around at everything he'd done so far, he did have to admit that he picked it up faster then he thought he would, but it wasn't because he felt a calling to it.

"I work hard to pay my debts," he explained with a smile, "but this isn't what I want to do. I still have my dream."

"Your dream?"

"To be the greatest swordmaster in all of Sacae." Guy's hand went down to the blade he wore even while working on the farm. He didn't draw it, but simply ran his thumb along the familiar hilt, confirming what he'd already accepted. It felt natural, far more so then any of the farming tools he'd used over the past weeks.

Emily watched him with a mixed expression, "Are you really that good?"

"Not yet. I'm getting better all the time, but there are still people better then me. I have to keep practicing, keep fighting, until I've surpassed them. That's the Way of the Sword."

Her expression grew a bit darker, "Have...you killed people? Just to get better?"

Guy shook his head, "I'm not Karel. I've killed people, yeah...alot of people actually. But always for a cause. Either defending myself or protecting my...allies. I would never kill someone just to prove I was better. I'd fight them, sure, but to the disarm or first blood, never to the death."

"Why? Why is fighting so important to you?"

"I..." Guy was stricken dumb for a moment. Nobody had ever really asked him that before. Probably because he'd always been in the company of other fighters who just understood. He didn't really know what to say. Finally he just shrugged, "I don't know, really. It's just been my dream ever since I was little, to be the best of the best. The sword feels natural, like an extension of my arm, like I was born to hold it. And..." he paused. He didn't really want to say it. Saying it made it real. But he couldn't just ignore it either.

"And?" She prompted.

"And it's the only thing I have left."

Emily sighed, shaking her head, "Don't you get it? I'm trying to tell you that it doesn't have to be! It already almost killed you at least once! Do you want to die?"

Guy was a bit taken aback. Did he want to die? What kind of a question was that? "Of course not! That's why I have to keep improving, until there isn't anyone out there who can beat me."

Now she just stared at him flatly, "What kind of logic is that? Why...why don't you just put the sword down? What's so bad about settling down?"

Guy looked away. He wasn't completely dumb about girls, he could figure out what she was really asking. But...he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to give it up, to admit that he failed at his life's dream. He failed at taking care of himself, he failed at making friends, but he hasn't failed as a swordsman. Not yet.

As he stood there thinking, Emily moved closer, trying to catch his eyes, "We...I...really want you to stay."

"Call it pride."

She took half a step back, surprised by the words, "What?"

Guy smiled apologetically, "Why I can't stay. I've made a mess of everything else in my life, but I haven't failed at my dream. I have to keep trying, until I either succeed or I know I've lost."

They were silent a moment longer, before Guy turned to go back into the house, "I'm sorry."

He felt her eyes on his back as he went through the door. Unable or unwilling to say anything else, he didn't know.

* * *

"You got everythin', son?"

Guy nodded at Fredrick's question, hefting the bag of travel food they'd prepared for him, "Yeah. You didn't have to pack all this for me, you've already done so much."

The old man waved off his concern, "Ye've paid fer it well enough. Decided where yer goin' yet?"

"Caelin. Grant should still be there, I think. I should have stuck with him all along, but..." Guy scratched his head in embarrassment a bit. They'd already heard at least the very basics of why he'd gotten into the horseberries.

"Will you ever come back?"

Guy actually blinked at the question, the first thing Emily had said to him since they talked two nights ago, "Um...probably not. I don't know where Grant's headed, but it won't be anywhere peaceful like here. And...well, I can't promise I'll even survive, much less have the time to find my way back. I'll try if I can, but it's not very likely."

Emily bit her lip, choking off whatever response or argument she had ready. Guy couldn't really blame her, from her perspective what he's going to do must look really stupid. This is part of why he never really tried to make friends with people who didn't fight. Some things they just never understood.

Not wanting to draw out the goodbyes any further then necessary, he gave the big dog one more scratch on the head and one last wave to Fredrick and Emily, "Thanks again. I'd better leave now if I want to make it to town before dark. Bye."

As he turned and walked away, he heard the old man behind him, "'Member, straight south 'til ye hit the road, ye cin find yer way from there. Take care o'yerself, boy."

Without a response, the young swordsman started on his way to Caelin. What happened in Badon still hurt like nothing else that had ever happened to him, but the time on the farm had been just what he needed to remember who he was, and what he needed to do. The Way of the Sword was his path, as it had always been, and that was something that could never be taken from him. Not by Nergal's magic, not by Rath's scorn and not by Matthew's betrayal.

What he needed now wasn't friendship, but simple understanding and a worthy cause to fight for. Guy was never really good at coming up with his own causes, but he knew just the man who could help him. As the miles stretched on, he kept his focus, following the roads unerringly for the Caelin territory where he was sure he would find Grant...and with him, a purpose.


	10. Guy: Masterless Sword Part 2

_Author's Note: So yeah, guess what? That whole scene at the farmhouse last chapter? Not in my original outline at all! So in order to actually get back on track with where I'm wanting to end up with the story, I'm doing a second Guy chapter in a row. It's not really a separate chapter in my view, simply what should have been in the last one but wasn't. Call it...Chapter 9x, if you will. ^_^;_

* * *

Guy - Masterless Sword(Part 2)

The road to Caelin was thankfully about as uneventful as he could hope for. There was some gossip in the towns he passed about a big to-do at the castle itself, which was the first news that had made Guy smile without reservations for awhile. He knew what the occasion had to be.

Sure, some might think it was a little soon, maybe even the lucky man himself, but Guy knew very well that warrior women of Sacae are not known for patience when it comes to matters of the heart. The lady Lyn had gotten her hooks into that red paladin of hers, and come Hell or high water she'd have him wed before the year was out. The very thought of the rules or customs she must have trampled right over to get it approved made him actively laugh. It's certainly something Matthew would have appreciated...

_...and there went my good mood. _

Shaking his head and forcing thoughts of the thief out of his mind, Guy turned his focus on Caelin Castle. It wasn't far now, just over the next hill. He could already see the tops of it's towers peeking from over the hilltop.

As he reached the top and looked down upon the castle, Guy's heart warmed a bit. Even the outside walls were decked out in ribbons and banners for the occasion, and if he squinted, he could see that the guards at the gate were in their fancy ceremonial armor.

Hoping that he hadn't missed the festivities yet, Guy caught a second wind and jogged the rest of the way to the castle.

* * *

Guy had to admire that ceremonial armor a bit as he passed by the guards at the gate. _Fancy, but looks like it would still hold up in a fight. I wonder if that's Kent's doing, or something Lord Wallace had cooked up?_

Fortunately one of the guards had recognized him from the war and passed him through the gate without any hassle. Unfortunately, that left Guy in the position of standing in a bustling courtyard with no idea where to go or what to do.

There was nobody he could recognize in sight, either. Various guests, people who looked like nobles, soldiers of Caelin, and lots of servants all running around getting things done. A few people gave him odd looks but nobody was coming over to speak to him. Guy wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Rath had always professed a very low opinion of nobles, and Guy was taking the nomad's thoughts more seriously these days, so he was glad to not be catching too much attention from anyone who might not want him there. _Still, it would be nice if someone would tell me where I'm supposed to be. Should I just ask someone where Grant is?_

After a few more minutes of standing around looking lost, Guy had just about made up his mind to go talk to someone, when a familiar voice jarred him out of his bewlidered state, "Guy! Guy, is that you?"

Looking around, he spotted a woman waving at him while making her way through the courtyard. A young woman with very familiar green pigtails and a bandanna.

Rebecca finished pushing her way through the crowd and grinned widely at her comrade in arms, "Guy, it really is you! Where did you disappear to after that party? Nobody could find you in the morning, we were all worried."

Guy was starting to smile at her infectious energy, but the question hit him like a blow to the gut and knocked any mirth straight out. "Um," he stammered a bit, then looked away. He didn't want to tell her. He didn't want the sympathy...and he also didn't want word to get back to Lyn about what happened. He didn't know her as well as some, but he knew enough that she would seriously consider carving Matthew into chunks the next time she saw him if she knew.

"Um...Guy?"

Guy shook off his introspection and looked back at Rebecca, inwardly wincing a bit at the concern already creeping into her eyes and voice. Shaking his head, he decided to give as straight an answer as he could bring himself to, "Look, I'd rather not talk about it if that's alright."

Rebecca nodded slightly. She may have been an idealistic girl once, but she was a soldier now. She understood now that sometimes it really may be best to just leave someone to their own mind. Changing the subject, she smiled again, though less exuberant then before, "So are you here for the wedding? Lyn will be ecstatic to have at least someone from Sacae here for it. Rath wouldn't come at all, not even after Wil practically begged him, the jerk."

A half smile twitched at Guy's mouth. He bet he had a good idea why, and it wasn't like Rath was particularly friendly even at the best of times. Then he answered the question, "Actually, I'm here to find Grant. If he's not busy helping set things up, do you think I could talk to him?"

Rebecca's smile turned apologetic, "Oh. Um, sorry to say this but Grant's not here anymore. He left a couple days ago. I'd tell you which way so you could try and catch up, except he was going by wyvern. Dame Vaida, Heath and Legault were all heading back to Bern, and Grant went with them."

Guy winced. _If I hadn't run off like that. If I hadn't let myself get into the horseberries. If I'd just been a couple of days faster. Dammit!_ Taking a deep breath, he rolled his head back to stare at the sky a moment before letting out a bit of a dark chuckle, "Of course. That's my luck right there."

"So...are you going to stay for the wedding? Or start off for Bern right away? Sir Kent is short one groomsman, actually. I'm sure he'd love to have you fill the spot."

That made Guy blink, "What? Me? Why would Kent want me for a groomsman? I'm just..."

"Just what?" Rebecca countered. "Just a Sacaen nomad? If you hadn't noticed, so is his fiance. Just someone who's saved his life, and Lady Lyn's, more then once? Just someone who faced off against Nergal alongside him? You and Kent were both part of Grant's handpicked elite-of-the-elite group that went in there after Nergal and the dragon. You may not be a man of Caelin, but I'd hardly call you strangers."

* * *

A beaming smile broke out on Kent's face as Guy stuck his head into the room where he and Wil were talking. It almost took Guy by surprise, as the red knight was looking far more weary and nervous then he ever had on the trail, the smile doing nothing to mask his nerves.

Guy decided he should probably say something, so he just waved a bit shyly, "Um, hi."

Kent and Wil were both on their feet in an instant, the red knight moving to clasp Guy on the shoulder in greeting, "Guy! It's good to see you, man. Have you seen Lady Lyndis yet?"

_He's about to marry her and still calling her 'Lady'? I don't get Lycians sometimes._ Shaking his head, Guy stepped into the room, "Uh, no, I haven't. Rebecca sent me right up here, she said you might need my help...?"

Kent blinked a bit, "Help? Oh! Yes, I am short one groomsman. I..." his expression faded back into it's usual calm demeanor, though his eyes still betrayed his true state, "I suppose I could ask another member of the Caelin knights to stand with me. But it doesn't quite feel right."

Wil nodded, "Yeah. Florina and Rebecca are the bridesmaids for Lyn, and I'm pulling groomsman duty for Kent. It would really be best if we had someone else who served in the war to complete it, you know?"

Guy nodded as well, "I understand. Though I wonder why Grant didn't stay long enough? I thought he and Lyn were really close friends?"

A grimace brefily flashed over Kent's face, "It was not entirely his choice to leave before the wedding. Dame Vaida and her wyvern were making things...difficult. But she and the others returning to Bern would not leave without Grant."

With a small snort, Wil added his own thoughts, "My bet is that she was doing it on purpose to make him leave sooner. She doesn't seem to care about much of anything besides her precious Prince Zephiel."

Kent shook his head, chiding Wil, "I cannot fault a knight for devotion to her Lord. Even if it does come at my own expense. I would do little different were our situations reversed."

"Come on, you'd just leave on your own instead of making a big fuss, Kent."

"I said little different, not no different."

Guy scratched his head a bit, feeling a little awkward at the exchange between Kent and Wil, and decided to change the subject, "So...I'm willing to help, but I don't really know anything about formal Lycian stuff. I don't know what to do here."

Wil smirked, "Don't worry, neither does Lady Lyn."

Kent shot Wil a disapproving glance, then returned his attention to Guy, "More to the point, it's not really difficult. Wil will present the rings, you largely just need to stand there and look respectable."

Guy looked down at himself, then back up to Kent, "Um. I don't really have any nice clothes. And I look pretty goofy without my sword."

Wil laughed, "Not a problem, the maids here can alter some of Lord Hassar's old things for you really fast. And we'll be carrying our weapons since we're the groomsmen for a knight. The real hardest thing you'll have to do is dance with Florina."

Guy started to blanch at that, but Kent raised a question, "Shouldn't he be opposite Rebecca? You and Florina are both sworn to Caelin, you should be at our right hand together."

But before Guy could relax a bit at that, Wil shook his head, "Well, Rebecca and I are both archers so it'd look better if we were opposite, I think. And we're both from Pherae, we grew up together and all. And..." he shrugs, "Well, I'm still an archer. Florina is like twice as nervous around me as normal men, even though we know eachother. It might be awkward."

As Kent started to nod in acceptance of that logic, Guy sighed, "Um, but I don't know how to dance at all."

This made Wil break out into a wide smile, "Don't worry, the only one of all six of us who does is Kent!"

Kent sighed and burried his face in his hands at that thought, "This is going to be the most awkward wedding in Caelin history. I just know it."

* * *

_Well, things have been going pretty smoothly so far at least_. Guy stood at the base of the stairs leading to the alter, across from Florina who he was a bit relieved to see looking just as uncomfortable as he felt. The two of them had drawn their swords in unison to salute as Lyn and Kent passed, and thankfully hadn't had to do much else since then. Just stand there and, well, look respectable.

Well, that and endure the speeches being given. Father Benar, the castle priest, delivered a long prayer of thanks to St. Elimine with a small and awkward bit about Mother Earth and Father Sky tacked onto the end, which made Guy want to snicker a bit. He wondered if Lyn was having the same reaction to it?

After that, Lord Hausen gave a much more stirring speech, commending Kent for all his service to the realm, and commenting that he could think of no more worthy man to take the hand of his only granddaughter. Guy stole a few glances up at the alter, seeing Kent standing more straight, holding his shoulders more square, under his lord's praise. The Marquess spoke of his granddaughter Lyndis, and how much joy she had brought him. He spoke of family and love, and how nothing, not tradition, nor rank, nor pride should ever come before them. Guy had heard rumor that Lord Hausen was known as a master orator in his youth, and hearing this speech now made him believe it.

The Lord's words, the pride in Kent's eyes, and the radiant smile on Lyn's face were filling Guy with an emotion he hadn't felt in some time. Hope. Real, true hope, the kind that picks up the pieces of a cracked resolve and fits them back together. The cracks will always show, but perhaps in the end it would be stronger for the breaking. At least that's what Guy hoped. His thoughts turned inward as he conjured up an image of Matthew in his mind...of the horribly betrayal at Badon, of all the pain and the uncertainty...and then he pushed them away. _I don't know why you did that. I doubt I ever will. Maybe you really are everything Rath said, maybe it was all just a horrible frustrated mistake. It doesn't matter, though. Life goes on. I can wallow in pain or I can keep walking the path of the blade. You wanted me to leave you alone...so I will. Good luck, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. This is the last I'll think of you, until our paths cross again. If they ever do. Father Sky, send my share of your protection his way, I'll rely on my skill alone to protect me._

"Um...um...Guy?"

Guy shook his head, snapping out of the introspection and blinking at...Florina, who was trying to get his attention. "Huh? Florina? What's...?" Looking around, he quickly noticed that people were crowding around Kent and Lyn to offer congratulations, the musicians were getting set up, and both Lord Hausen and the priest had taken seats.

"Um...are you okay? You were just staring at the cieling..." Florina was standing alot closer then Guy would have expected. Which is to say within arm's reach if he stretched just a touch. Easily close enough for the concern both in her voice and on her face to be clear.

Contrary to what was occasionally believed, Guy wasn't dumb. He could put two and two together just fine, even when he didn't like the result. Visibly wincing, he buried his head in his hands, "I spaced out. Sorry. I'm okay, I was just thinking about...stuff. Um," Guy decided to change the subject, but the only thing that came to mind was a subject that was almost as embarrassing. Almost. "So, Wil said that you don't know how to dance either?"

Florina's answer was turning red, taking a quick step backwards and shaking her head violently.

Guy sighed, eyeing the musicians wearily as they finished their setup and started playing the first piece. _This is going to be awkward..._

* * *

The view of the sunset from the top of the Lord's Tower was dazzling. Guy sat cross-legged on the wall, completely unafraid of the height, and stared out at the rolling hills of Caelin. It was like something from a painting, the sun's fading light painting half the land in soft reds and orange, while the shadows cast by the hills mixed in gray and the last touches of green. Though Sacae was a bit more flat then this, it still reminded him of home. A home he wouldn't be returning to for a long time still.

Behind him, he could hear a bit of laughter as Lyn was relating some of the drama the maids had been raising during the preparation. Apparently a wedding was a lot more work on the bride's side then the groom's, which guy was a bit thankful for. What he'd had to put up with was almost too much for him as it was, and poor Kent didn't seem to be handling it much better.

The six of them had slipped out from the festivities a bit early, with Lord Hausen cheerfully covering up their escape, and made their way up to the roof of the Lord's Tower at Lyn's invitation. He imagined that she spent alot of time up here. Especially at sunset.

"So what are you planning on doing next?" Lyn's voice was pitched a bit, right in his direction. Guy knew she had to be talking to him.

Turning around, he jerked his thumb off to the east, "I'll head off to Bern and try to meet up with Grant. Whatever he's doing there, there's going to be fighting, so I'm sure he could use my sword."

Kent frowned, "Hmm, I'm not sure it will be that easy. He sounded like he was planning on going to ground, working from behind the scenes. And he has quite a headstart, on wyvern-back no less. You may not be able to find him."

Guy shrugged, "Even if I don't, Bern is still the place to be right now. And if I end up working for the wrong side..." he half grinned over at Rebecca, "wouldn't be the first time I've switch sides in the middle of a battle."

The memory made Rebecca shudder, "I thought I'd hidden well in those woods, but you were coming right at me. If Matthew hadn't been there..."

Wil gave Guy a horrified look, "You almost killed Rebecca! How could you do something like that?"

Rebecca swatted Wil on the arm before Guy could even defend himself, "Oh don't worry about it. I'm fine, and he didn't even know us then. It was between Pherae and Caelin, back at the beginning of that whole mess."

As Wil grumbled and shot Guy a dirty look, Kent posed the question Guy had been waiting for, "I'm just surprised you want to go right into another conflict before really having a chance to rest from the last one."

"It's...well, it's hard to explain. Mastery of the sword is really what I live for. I don't really expect you to understand, but I wouldn't feel right resting wile I know there's an opportunity to improve waiting for me."

"That's Vita-Katti, right?" Lyn asked, "The Life of the Sword? None in the Lorca followed the path, but I had heard of it."

Guy nodded, "Yeah. Well, I figured you would understand at least."

Kent shrugged, "It's your decision to make, and I wish you luck with it. Will you be leaving in the morning, or staying a bit longer?"

"I'll be getting supplies and heading out tomorrow. It's a long walk from here to Bern."

Lyn smiled, "Walk? I'm sure grandfather can spare you a horse at the very least. And...could I ask you a favor, when you go?"

All eyes turned to Lyn, nobody really expecting her to ask for anything. Guy nodded, "Of course."

"Well," Lyn asked, "it would be a bit out of your way, but if you could head to the church near Bulgar and return this to the priest?" As she asked the question, she took her sword off her hip and held it out to Guy.

"The Mani Katti?" Guy looked at her in confusion, "But that's your sword."

"I don't need it anymore. It's helped me so much, but now it's time for it to go back to the church and wait for it's next wielder. It's also a piece of Sacaen history, I wouldn't feel right with it staying here in Lycia forever. I don't know when I'll go back to the plains, but I'd like you to take the sword back now. If you don't mind, that is."

He hesitated a moment, but took the sword, "Right. Don't worry, I'll see it safely back to the shrine."

A sigh of relief escaped Lyn as the sword left her grasp, "Thanks. Don't think this means I'm giving up swordsmanship. I just think the Mani Katti is better off returning to it's resting place."

Everyone sat in silence a bit more, simply enjoying the quiet company of trusted allies after the hectic day. Then Rebecca opened the basket she'd brought up, pulling out a wineskin and a bunch of glasses, "Well, it's almost dark, so we should head back in soon. But first, a toast. Just between us. Here, Wil, you can pour."

Wil took the skin and filled the glasses, passing them around. Looking around at the six of them, he was the first to raise his glass, "To Sain. And Lord Wallace. They would have loved to be here today, but...I know that they're happy that it happened, even without them."

Guy thought he saw a slight tear form in Kent's eye for a breif moment. But it had to be a trick of the fading light, as the red knight raised his own glass with a steady voice and a slight nod to Florina, "To Farina and Sir Lowen as well. Let their names and their lives never be forgotten."

Lyn raised hers next, "To Lords Elbert and Uther. Eliwood and Hector have large shoes to fill, but I know they'll pull through."

Hesitantly, Florina lifted hers, saying the first words she had since coming to the roof, "Um, and to Nils and Ninian, too. Oh, and Sage Athos."

Rebecca lifted her glass, "And here's to what we gained. The love," she smiled at Lyn and Kent, "the friendships," she smiled at Guy and Florina, "and to those who haven't figured out which they are yet," she grinned at Wil at this last, causing the young man to sputter, Lyn and Florina to giggle, and Kent and Guy to try very hard not to join them. Turning back to looking at the group as a whole, she continued, "Here's to the children, those with us now and those still unborn who will grow up in a world without the shadow of Nergal looming over it."

Guy and Lyn exchanged a grim look, but then Guy realized he hadn't toasted yet, and hastily raised his own glass, "Uh..." he hesitated, unsure of what to say...then closed his eyes and just let words go straight from his heart to the open air, "To the past, may it be our strength instead of our chains. And to the future, may we forge it out ourselves instead of fearing it's coming."

Kent nodded, "Well spoken."

They drained their glasses, and after another long moment of peaceful silence, went back inside.

* * *

The wind whipped through the horse's main, as well as Guy's hair, as he rode north and east. The pass from Tania was closed, though crews were getting to work on clearing it now, it was still longer then he really felt like waiting. So he left for the northern pass through Araphen.

He'd gotten some warnings about it not being safe in Araphen ever since the Marquess died, but Guy wasn't exactly afraid of bandits. If they had any skill, they'd be able to gauge his skill as well and wouldn't pick the fight if they had any sense. And if they didn't have the skill...well, he had no reason to fear them. Guy could dodge ballista bolts and magic lightning, the axes of bandits, or even the blades and lances of soldiers turned to banditry didn't even remotely scare him.

So he rode onward, and let his mind wander a bit while he scanned the road for hazards.

It had been some time since he left Caelin. At Lyn's request, Lord Hausen spared not only a horse, but supplies, gold and even a new sword, his preferred style of Killing Edge. Guy wasn't so sure what he'd done to deserve all that, but when he voiced his concern it just made Kent look at him funny and tell him to accept the Lord's generosity with grace. Well, he was certainly glad for the new sword at the least. His old one had been nicked and damaged and was in pretty bad need of repairs.

As he thought of the sword, his hand fell to the hilt of his new blade. Just running his thumb along it heightened his awareness, made his senses sharper, his eyes keener. It was probably all in his head, but whatever the reason, Guy knew that even having his hand on a sheathed blade made him pay more attention. Heck, he probably wouldn't have noticed that guy over in the trees if he wasn't focusing like this.

_...wait, who is that? He looks familiar._

Guy slowed his horse to get a better look at the figure...and when the man stepped out from the shadows a bit, a cold feeling settled in the pit of Guy's stomach. _Oh no. No no no, not you. Not here. Not now..._

The man's face was cold, as it had always been. Guy had never seen him smile. He didn't even know if he could.

Then the man spoke, "Guy. I had not expected to find you here."

Guy controlled his breathing. They had just fought together, right? There wasn't anything to be afraid of...right? Forcing a slight nod, he responded, "Karel. What are you doing here?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for...Karla?"

Karel shook his head slightly. No wasted motion, even in his expressions. Some called it graceful, elegant even. Guy used to think so himself, but...not anymore. Karel is what became of those who tried to follow the way of the sword, but let it become more about the killing then about pushing their own limits.

"Then who are you waiting for?"

And now, Karel, the dreaded Sword Demon, half smiled. The expression was more terrifying then any scowl or mask of rage Guy had ever seen. There was no mirth in this smile, no innocence, no joy. Only a twisted and black anticipation.

"Strong opponents," Karel answered. The Sword Demon casually placed on hand on the hilt of his sword as he explained, "You see, with the pass closed, many who think themselves strong try to take the northern route. Some are even strong enough."

Twin emotions of fear and anger were rising in the young swordsman, "So what, you just kill everyone who comes this way? Is that what you're doing?"

Another slight decline of the head, "No. Only the ones skilled enough to notice me. I can see it in your eyes. Once you were beneath my notice, but now..." Karel drew his blade, "Face me."

Guy's blood ran cold. He'd seen what this man was capable of. What happened to anyone and everyone who stood against him. But at the same time, he remembered how Jaffar dealt with it when Karel tried to fight him in Badon. Guy didn't much like taking cues from the Angel of Death, but right now it was the best idea he had.

"No." Guy shook his head, "I won't. You're not a murderer, you don't kill people who don't fight back. I don't know why, but I know you don't. So I won't fight."

For some reason, this made Karel smile wider, "Oh? That isn't a choice you can make, Guy of the Kutolah."

"Why not?"

"Look at your hand."

Confused, Guy looked down...to see his sword already in his hand. He didn't remember drawing it. It was reflex. He thought about dropping it...but his hand wouldn't open. In the face of a man who desired to kill him, Guy's body wouldn't listen to the absurd notion that not fighting was the only way out. It was too well trained.

Karel took a single, slow, step forward...which was all the time Guy had to react. Instantly his blade was up to guard, barely parrying the blow aimed right for his heart. His incredible speed saved his life, but the force of Karel's attack still carried Guy clear out of the saddle.

Rolling to his feet, Guy fell into a defensive posture. He knew Karel was better then him. Stronger, more skilled...but maybe not faster. Guy's sheer neckbreaking speed was his greatest advantage, and the one thing he might have over Karel. If anything would let him survive this fight, that was it.

As Karel leisurely circled, carefully measuing his next blow, Guy was relieved to see the horse already running off. It wasn't a full warhorse, but it had been trained enough to carry a rider in battle without spooking too much. He was worried it would try and lash out...which would have cost him his only chance at escape. Not waiting for Karel to set the pace of the battle, Guy started to back away. _If I can just lure him away from the horse...maybe I can get past him and run._

A mere breath later, Karel flashed forward again, pursuing Guy with a lunging slash. This time, Guy threw himself to the side, attempting to parry and come up in a roll. Pain seared into his mind as the tip of the Wo Dao sliced right through his cloth armor and into his side. But the cut was shallow, simply slashing a small line beneath his ribs, not even an inch deep. Which means that as far as the two men fighting were concerned, it missed.

Karel's eyes narrowed as Guy rolled to his feet and fell right back into his defensive stance without pause. "I see. You're faster then I am. I never would have imagined it. I have to kill you more then ever now."

Strangely, these words were more of a comfort to Guy then anything else. _I was right. I am faster. Even he knows it. The next strike is my chance. I just have to dodge it. Somehow._

So Karel resumed his circling, and this time Guy moved with him. The trick was to maneuver himself into the right position to bolt from, without giving his intentions away. Guy couldn't imagine Karel wouldn't pick up on it. He must be very used to people trying to run away from him by now.

The sword demon stepped in again, and again Guy reacted...realizing his mistake a split second after he started to move and trying desperately to correct himself in the right direction.

Karel had stepped in, but quickly slid to the side when Guy reacted to his feint, swooping low like a grounded hawk as he closed the distance, the Wo Dao flashing in an upward arc...

...and carrying with it only a thin trace of blood as it barely brushed Guy's chest. Again, the younger man had managed to jerk out of the way just in time.

The demon's blade was extended, his chest exposed. This was the perfect time to strike. On instinct, Guy began to bring his blade around...but then by sheer willpower aborted the attack, spun to the side, and RAN.

Karel blinked, taken by surprise by his opponent's sudden flight. The shock gripped him only for a second...but even a single second head start was more then Guy could have expected.

Putting the pain in his side and his chest out of his mind, the young nomad ran for all he was worth, chasing down the fleeing horse. It wouldn't keep moving at a full gallop forever, only a few moments to escape the battle. Then it would slow, and perhaps even turn around. Guy knew horses, he grew up on the plains. He just had to keep this speed up until he caught the horse...as he could hear Karel giving chase behind him.

The scene would have looked strange to an onlooker, if they didn't blink and miss the whole affair. Two men, both running for all they were worth, one fleeing and the other pursuing, neither making a sound as they went in stark contrast to the usual shouting that accompanies most deadly chases. Guy did not dare waste the breath to even scream, and Karel had nothing to say.

Bit by bit, the younger man gained ground, putting another inch, then another foot, another yard between himself and his assailant. He needed it. He needed every inch of ground he could put between them, because it would take the horse a moment to launch into a gallop, and that moment could still very well mean Guy's life, even if the vault was perfect.

_There! _Suddenly, the horse came into view. Finally calling out, Guy whistled to the creature that was his only hope, catching it's attention, shouting the command to turn as he neared. Responding as trained, the horse began to turn around, presenting it's back to Guy, and more importantly, pointing it's nose in the direction Guy wanted it to run as soon as he jumped on.

_One chance. I've only got one chance. If I miss this...I'm dead._ The thought steadied his nerves. He couldn't afford to bungle this one, everything was riding on it. _Lyn's counting on me. I can't let Karel take the Mani Katti._

He closed the distance...and leapt. A harsh pain in his thighs joined the ones in his side and chest as he landed, thankfully in the saddle. But he did not pause even a moment before barking out the command to run, digging his heels into his mount's side to give the order the urgency it needed.

The horse lurched forward, quickly accelerating into a full gallop. The moment he felt the familiar rythem beneath him, Guy breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe. He had escaped.

He didn't turn to look behind him. But if he had, the sight of Karel's emotionless eyes fixating on his retreating form would have haunted his sleep for a long time to come. The sword demon stopped chasing the moment Guy made it into the saddle, not even attempting a final desperate strike. There was no need. He knew where Guy was going.

Sheathing his Wo Dao, Karel casually turned south to collect his belongings. It seemed to him that a trip to Bern was in order...

* * *

_Author's Footnote: __And there we have it. This was a long one and was pretty draining to write. Also didn't get it up until the last minute, but hey, it's still March 31st where I am! I'm still on schedule. Really. Humor me here. _

_Anyway, please read and review. I'm not too sure on the characterization of the Caelin crew especially, so feedback along those lines would be welcome. _

_And yes, I'm aware that Wil goes back to Pherae with Rebecca, not her going to Caelin with him. I just wanted them there, so in the S&S-verse, she heads to Caelin with Wil long enough for the wedding and for him to get an official type discharge and such, then they head to Pherae together. Sure I could have put that in the main story, but this story isn't about them. It's about Guy and Matthew. So, they get a footnote._


	11. Matthew: Shadow Savior

Matthew: Shadow Savior

"Thirty-five and not a clipped coin more." The barber's eyes were narrowed, focusing what he must have thought an impressive stare at the young man he was bartering with.

For his part, Matthew made a show of being unnerved by the man's 'intensity' and after a bit of heel-dragging let him get the deal he was pushing for. Holding up his hands, he drawled out with a very slight Berneese rural accent, "I know when I'm beat, master Dawes. Thirty-five for the good hand mirror. I could get more for it in the city, but you're quite right that it's not like to survive the trip."

The man nodded, quite pleased with himself, and the coin and goods shortly exchanged hands. Master Dawes was the last customer of the day, which was just as well since the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting the massive shadows of the peaks over everything. Night always seemed to come earlier in the mountains, though from the right spot the sunsets were breathtaking, so maybe it was a fair trade. _Don't get sunsets like that back Ostia ways, that's for sure._

Matthew half smiled as he noticed that he added the slight country drawl even to his thoughts. That was good, meant he was getting into character. Not that he had to try very hard for this act, mind. Pretending to be a peddler is extremely easy when you actually have a cart and stock to sell. Meant he had to do some actual peddling, but the work wasn't all that difficult, considering he was only making a token effort at coming out ahead. He tried hard enough to not attract suspicion, but not enough to really distract him from the real goal of his trip into Bern: information gathering.

Thankfully, most folks were more then willing to share news with peddlers. It was really the perfect disguise for his needs, providing him a reason to travel, a way to ask questions without standing out and putting him in one of the few positions that small town folk would trust outsiders in.

_Morbid as it is, Ostia may have to thank Ranad for getting himself killed like that._ The dark thought made the tall man chuckle in a grim fashion. Part of him was still a bit bothered that he could treat life so lightly, but the rest of him knew that was just something that came with the territory. He was a swordsman, a thief, a spy and even an assassin for his country. It wasn't as if he didn't try to tell the man how he could escape, either. _Hardly my fault that he risked his life for his merchandise and lost the gamble._

Matthew finished packing down his cart for the night as he thought about what happened. He hadn't been willing to risk facing three brigands on his own without any backup at all, especially as he had no way of ensuring they would focus on him instead of taking the merchant as a hostage. Sure, he probably could have won, and back with the army 'probably' was usually good enough. But on a mission alone? With a deep sigh, Matt shoved the thoughts out of his mind. He was trying to justify his actions and he knew it. Whatever the reason, he left a man to die and then profited from his death after murdering his killers in their sleep. Ranad's blood was on his hands as surely as the brigands'.

_Just one more thing to answer for when I finally go to meet Leila. That'll be one hell of a list already, what's one more red stain at this point?_

The black thoughts twirled around Matthew's mind, twisting and gnawing away at his composure, as they had been ever since he left Badon...or perhaps even before that. Had he really been whole since Leila died? Had the war after that point been nothing but an excuse to distract himself, much as his mission now was? Matthew was trained to read others like a book, from shifts in stance to facial expressions to subtle inflections in tone, there was little that someone else could hide from him. But even with all this skill, he still had trouble sorting out his own mind.

As he eyed the small town around him, he did know one thing for certain. Nobody here had seen or heard any sign of individuals with the unique combination of black hair and golden eyes. If...if Nergal was still somehow alive and operating as Eagle had said, he wasn't around here. It was time to move on.

* * *

Matthew was used to traveling alone, but the slow speed of the cart and the encroaching mountains around him made this trip somehow feel more exhausting then other solo journeys he had undertaken over the years. The rising peaks, so beautiful in other circumstances, now felt oppressive and stifling. Some called the mountain air refreshing, but right now it only seemed thin and hard to breathe. Of course that may only have been because he was fast approaching the highest point of the mountains.

Blackwool, the town where he had just acquired a fair amount of information, if little of it useful, was now two days behind him, and it was still another day and a bit until he arrived in the uncreatively named village of Highpost. Which of course meant one more night camping instead of staying at an inn, but that isn't really what was getting to him. It's not like he was afraid of bandits or even the local wildlife, not when he didn't have to watch someone else's back at least.

No, it wasn't that at all. It was the quiet. The eerie stillness of the winding mountain roads filled by nothing but the sound of his horses' steps and the creaking of the turning wheels of the cart. Perhaps the occasional cry of a bird or distant mountain cat added a small bit of life to the air, but for the longest stretches there was no noise other then what Matthew himself was making. But quiet alone was hardly something that should bother a spy. Matthew had gone for days without speaking during certain missions before, after all. The problem was what the quiet brought with it. Nothing to do, no one to talk to. Nothing to fill his hours but his own thoughts.

_Maybe this wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Well, it'll be better once I make it into Bern proper at least._ In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the thoughts he wanted to avoid, Matthew thought ahead to the task that awaited him. _Even soldiers need more goods then the army gives them, especially in hard times like this. A peddler would be more then welcome, and they'll be a bit more willing to lower their guard and talk to someone bringing goods. I should try and find out what the army is low on and stock up what I can before getting in. Not weapons, I think. More luxury items, like some sugar or honey to help make rations a bit more palatable. Maybe I can get some better blankets or hard weather clothes up here, those would be welcome as well._

Managing to pull his thoughts together and focus, the spy got into the swing of the planning, making mental notes on what he needed to stock before trying to trade with soldiers. The goal was simple, to try and approach the soldiers as if they were men like any other, not just men of war. A stout shield may be worth more in a battle, but it's a warm blanket or an extra serving of good food that they'd be more thankful for between fights. Even soldiers wanted the same comforts as other men, the small things to remind them that they were human and not as faceless and soulless as the blades they carried.

The cart rumbled on as he thought ahead, the horses simply following the road with only a bit of direction from their driver. Hours passed like that, Matthew's dark mood forgotten as he worked out the good he would need to acquire to perfect his plan. But just as he started to crack a smile about how it's fortunate that 'acquisitions' happened to be one of his many specialties, a sound from the side of the road snapped him back to full awareness.

Placing a hand on his knife, he called out towards the sound, "Who's there? Show yourself."

A moment later, a man with an axe over his shoulder stepped out of the brush with a big smile on his face, "Ah, sorry there lad, didn't mean to disturb ya. Headin' for Highpost I take it?"

Nodding in answer to the question, Matthew quickly sized the man up. Muscular but he wore no armor, just some thick woolen clothes suited for work in the mountains. The smile showed missing teeth, telling the spy that he'd seen his share of fights in the past. It would be easy to take him for a simple lumberjack, out working while he heard a cart on the road. But Matthew could see deeper then that, even at just a glance. The man's axe was certainly a tool for chopping wood instead of a weapon of war, but he still caught the telltale bloodstains on the haft, though the blade itself was clean. The man's smile was also entirely false. Oh, he was happy enough to see a peddler alright, but not in an honest way. He smiled like a wolf who'd just sighted a lonely sheep. It reminded Matthew of the sort of smile Lord Hector would wear when forced to be nice to someone he didn't like.

Taking the nod at face value, the man's smile grew, "Ah, good to hear, good to hear. Lovely town you know. Hope you're plannin' on stayin' a bit, I'll have to make the time to some in and see your goods."

Matthew smiled in return, doing a much better job of making it look genuine, "Of course. I've even got a few things a woodsman like yourself could use, I'd wager. Some top notch steel carving knives if you work the wood as well as chop it down, and even a quality whetstone all the way from the Western Isles, guaranteed to make that edge on your axe as good as new."

To his credit, the man did a fairly good job of looking impressed and interested at Matt's sales pitch, nodding along and insisting, "Well I certainly will have to come take a look then. Could use a new whetstone." Taking a step back, he turned to head back into the trees, "Well I won't hold you up any long. Good eve' to you, sir."

"And you as well, sir." Matthew responded politely before prodding his horses to continue moving.

The moment he figured the man was well and truly out of sight, Matthew reached down for a certain small bag he kept in the hidden space he found under the seat of the cart. After fishing the bag out, he quickly pulled his shirt off and got to work getting properly 'dressed', fastening on the hidden wrist sheathes containing throwing knives, as well as a sort of harness over his chest that held a sheath for a longer fighting knife tight against his back. It didn't take him long to slide these on, or to get his shirt and cloak back on over them to hide the weapons.

Now fully equipped, Matthew's senses felt sharper. He didn't wear these normally. Too risky that they might be noticed, and his cover completely blown. A peddler carrying a single blade openly was nothing strange, but no one carried such hidden blades who was up to any good, or at least that's what common wisdom held. But right now, he felt it was worth the risk. Something was going on in Highpost, and he'd wager it wasn't anything pleasant.

Schooling his expression to that particular mixture of weary, cautious and friendly that people expected from peddlers, Matthew kept his eyes open and his ears alert as he made his way towards Highpost, pushing on through the night if need be.

* * *

As Matthew spoke with the village headman, he didn't really like what he was hearing. "So let me get this straight. You don't normally have bandit trouble around here, but somehow all of a sudden an entire gang moves in and stops anyone from leaving town? But doesn't attack the town itself ever?" Matt shook his head, not really able to make sense of these actions, "Why? If they're just after profit, they should be attacking, right?"

A couple of the other village men in the common room of the only inn in town gave him a dirty look for that line, but the headman nodded, "That's correct. We can't figure it out either. All we know is they let people in, but never out. And I'm afraid all the fighting men this town used to be home to have all already been caught up in the fighting down in the lowlands."

The Ostian nodded, having expected as much on that front. Trying to fathom the motives the so called 'bandits' could have, he pressed for more information, "So what happens if you do try to leave? They kill you?"

Another man snorted and shook his head, "Not if you'll turn 'round and head back to town nice and easy like. Damndest thing."

"...right." Matthew closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids, suddenly understanding Grant's chronic headaches so much more. This did not make any sense that he could see. Which meant these were not normal bandits. Bandits were base men with base desires. Patience was rarely part of the package and their plans never ranged far beyond 'kill, rape, pillage THEN burn' in complexity.

At his overt sign of frustration and tiredness, the headman chuckled a bit and patted him on the shoulder, swiftly pulling his hand back as Matthew visibly flinched, "Uh, sorry son. Look, you've had a long trip and should get some rest. Maybe we'll talk about some trading when you're up to it. Might raise spirits all around. All we can do is wait until another town notices they haven't heard from us in awhile."

Matt nodded, quietly thankful the flinch had gotten the man's hand away from possibly feeling the shoulder strap of his hidden weapon sheath. Quickly he spun a lie to cover the oddness of the motion as he agreed to the idea, "Sorry as well. Was night-watch for a city guard not too long ago. Still don't take well to being touched without warning. And rest sounds good, thanks."

A woman came over to show Matthew to where he could sleep, a half smile on her face as she led the way, "An ex-guardsman, hmm? Thank Elimine for small favors I suppose. Not much one man can do, but it's nice to have someone trained in real weaponswork stuck here with us, just in case."

Following the woman, Matt returned the smile with a tired one of his own and patted the blade he wore openly. "I'm no master," he forcefully stopped himself from snickering at that particular half-truth, "but I'm good enough to get away with traveling without a guard so far. If they change their minds and come at the town while I'm here, you can bet I'll lend a blade."

"You're a good man, master...Norris, was it?" The woman asked as they arrived at the room he would be using.

Matthew nodded, "That it is. Thank you for the room, ma'am."

And with that, he wrapped himself up in his cloak, still too paranoid to get under the blankets that could impede his ability to spring up at a moment's notice, and laid down to get some sleep.

* * *

Having arrived at Highpost early morning, Matthew woke close to dinner time, the smell of a good country meal doing more to draw him from his slumber then anything else. Taking a moment to straighten out his clothing and make sure that his hidden armaments were well and truly hidden, he used the same time to prepare himself mentally before heading out.

His character this time was Norris, a young man new to the peddler's trade, having somehow come into some money while working as night-watch in a city guard somewhere. Not enough to retire on, but enough to quit his job with the watch and try his hand at the life he'd always wanted, that of the traveling merchant. Handy enough with a blade not to embarrass himself and still operating with a bit of a watchman's mindset, protect civilians and spare no sympathy for outlaws.

The details were still vague, but it was serviceable enough here. The people of Highpost would be happy enough to see a peddler at all, much less one who had a bit of combat experience, that they wouldn't poke at his cover too hard. This was just a bit of good luck to balance all that ill luck they've been having lately, that's all. After all, people believed two things very easily: things they want to be true and things they fear are true.

As he opened the door to walk out into the common room, Matthew suppressed a small smile at his next thought. _The trick, of course, will be investigating these bandits without giving myself away. But that's what makes this part fun._ He had entered the highlands specifically for that reason, after all. Nergal, or someone pretending to be him, would find more secrecy to work with here then in the lowlands in the middle of the current conflict. These bandits were the first thing he'd found that seemed enough out of place to possibly be connected, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to follow up on that.

Making his entrance into the room, Matthew was a bit surprised to find it fairly crowded. It seemed like most of the men still in town were here, and the topic of conversation was of course the bandits. Nodding to those who acknowledged his entrance, he kept to the sides and out of the conversation for a bit, just listening as he acquired and started in on some dinner.

The flow of the conversation seemed to be going in the direction of what Grant referred to as 'wild mass planning', where a bunch of people who had no real business trying to come up with battle plans desperately tried to do just that. And the poor folks of Highpost, like the examples Grant always used to describe this, were falling into the trap of thinking that plans had to be complicated or they would be seen through too easily. Which was fairly blatantly false, most of the best plans were simple since the more complex things got the easier they were to disrupt. But a bunch of non-combatants would hardly know that.

Quickly finishing his meal, the spy in peddler's guise invited himself over to the table where the village headman and the other older men were trying to think of a way out of the situation without much success. Nodding respectfully, he looked around for a chair to pull in, "Mind if I sit in? This is my problem now too, so I'd like to help if I can."

The headman gestured and people scooted around to make room for him at the table. As Matt pulled over a chair and made himself comfortable, the headman nodded and thanked him for his offer, "Thankee, son. We could use any help we can get at this point. Now you said you used to be Watch? Ever deal with bandits like this before?"

Matthew shook his head, "Bandits were a job for soldiers, not the watch. We dealt more with thieves and some rowdy drunks, but if it happened outside the city walls then it wasn't our problem. I might have a couple of ideas though, if you wouldn't mind answering a couple questions for me?"

The men all nodded their agreement, and Matthew continued, "These brigands wouldn't happen to have black hair and gold eyes, would they? I know it's an odd question, but..." he leaned in conspiratorially and lowered his voice as if afraid of being overheard, "well, I've heard some rumors from the King's men about some people who all looked like that doing some really strange things. Kidnapping, serving dark mages, that kind of thing. It's all rumor, but the soldiers seemed to believe it."

There was some murmuring around the table at the question, but one of the men shook his head, "That's not exactly pleasant news, but I've seen a few of 'em and not one's had gold eyes. Black hair on a couple, but normal eyes like any other man."

Matthew leaned back, a bit disappointed in his find. Though he kept the thought that it could be one morph paying off a bunch of normal men to himself. But before he start in on his other questions, the door of the inn flew open and a hysterical woman burst inside.

"Headman Jons!" The woman's eyes were wide, and her face halfway between white with fear and red from exertion, her loud voice piercing cleanly over every conversation in the room, "I can't find Willis! I can't find him anywhere!"

In an instant the village men were on their feet, the headman grabbing the woman by her shoulders to calm her down, "Deep breaths, Maggie, deep breaths. What do you mean you can't find Willis?"

The woman took the deep breaths as ordered, but they didn't seem to help much as she blurted out, "I mean just that, I can't find him anywhere! And Dorris can't find her Henry either! She said her granddad's old sword is gone from the mantle, too!"

Matthew winced, putting the pieces together quickly to come to the only conclusion he could. Standing up himself, he moved over towards the crowd around the door, "Is that so? How old are these boys, ma'am?"

The headman answered for her, "Willis just turned fifteen this month, and Henry is a bit younger." He paused, not wanting to say it but unable to resist, "You don't think...?"

Another man nodded, "That's exactly what he's saying, headman. Those damn fool boys are trying to play hero. Bet Willis's huntin' bow is gone too, ain't it Maggie?"

The color drained right from the woman's face as she nodded slightly.

The room broke out into shouts and noise at this, everyone having their own ideas of what to do about it. In the commotion, few if any noticed the 'peddler' quietly slipping away into the kitchen and out the back door.

_

* * *

_

Damn it all to hell!

Matthew cursed inwardly as he silently followed the tracks of the two boys as best he could. _I shouldn't be doing this. I'm going to blow my cover wide open._

But he knew that at this point, he didn't have a choice. He'd reacted without thinking, leaving the inn to try and catch the boys before they did something monumentally stupid. He didn't quite realize what he was doing until he was already out the door, either. But now that he was already here...he just couldn't turn around and try to salvage his cover. He knew it wasn't too late, he could spin a story or two that would make his sudden exit seem completely reasonable for 'Norris'. But he just couldn't do it.

_This is stupid. I don't know how many bandits there are, I don't know how well armed they really are and I can't even try to cut the kids off because I don't know the terrain or even exactly where I'm going._ Matthew seethed a bit at himself and the situation as he lost the tracks for a moment, then found them again. _All I can do is follow their tracks, and I'm barely an amateur tracker, I just know the basics Guy taught me..._

That thought caused the spy's frustration with himself to nearly double. _Guy...yeah, this is exactly what he would have done. Which is about all the proof I need to know it was a bad idea. DAMMIT!_

The sun had just finished setting, casting a dark twilight over the mountain and making keeping the trail that much more difficult. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Matthew slowed his progress and focused on keeping to the tracks. There was no way he could catch up to them by this point, all he could do was follow the tracks as best he could and hope that the bandits took the kids alive.

* * *

_Well at least my hunch was right._ Matthew watched the two men guarding the front entrance of the crumbling old fort from his position of peeking out from behind a large rock. He'd guessed their base would be east of the town, to put their strength between the town and the lowlands. That would be the most sensible direction for a villager to try to escape towards, and it's the most likely direction help would come from. The kids apparently knew of the outpost as well, since their tracks led straight here.

Of course being right wasn't of much comfort at the moment. Keeping as still as possible, Matthew picked over his options while watching the guards. _Two ways I can do this. One, the direct approach. Take out the guards before they can raise an alarm and slip right in the front. I'd need to draw them out, maybe with the classic 'throw a rock to make a noise' ploy. Of course that only works if they're dumb._

Sizing the men up as much as he could in the poor light, he was forced to admit that they didn't look quite as sloppy as he'd hoped. They had decent weapons from what he could see, and were quite alert. _They probably have the kids inside and are expecting a rescue team from the town. Right, so option two it is. Look for another entrance._

This was hardly Matthew's first time in rough terrain at night, so he knew how to move quietly even here. Slipping out from behind his cover, he kept to the darkest spots while carefully moving around to the side of the fort. The place looked in poor repair, so there had to be another way in, and with any luck one they didn't expect. Matthew was willing to bet that he could fit through a hole they didn't think was large enough to block off, or climb a spot these men didn't think was climbable.

As he reached the northern side of the fort without being spotted, he found his entrance. A hole in the wall about three feet off the ground. Far too small for most to fit through, but the lanky spy was fairly sure he could work his way through it even with his hidden weapons on. The trick, of course, was getting in without being seen or heard.

A few moments listening and a quick peek through the hole told him that nobody was on the other side right this moment...and thankfully the bandits didn't seem interested in placing torches or lanterns about to keep the area well lit. So long as he was quiet about it, he didn't think he'd get caught.

_Well, here goes nothing._ Taking the gamble, Matt carefully slid his arms and head through the hole, twisting and contorting to work his body through the tight fit and relying on his cloak to take the brunt of the damage that the close scrape against the rough stone would do. A moment later, he was in, with the bandits none the wiser.

As soon as he was in, Matthew went low to the ground, slipping away from the hole and into the deepest shadows he could find. Staying stock still, he took a few moments to listen, trying to hear footsteps or voices to give him the positions of the enemy, and trying to picture the layout of the building from what he heard.

He was in a somewhat cramped corridor against the outer wall, periodic arrow slits telling him all he needed to know about what the intended use of this space was. He could hear the low murmur of activity from somewhere...possibly on the other side of the inner wall, the sound was muffled enough to be coming from another room and likely through a closed door. Unless he let someone shout, he doubted whoever was in that room would hear anything he did. What interested him more were some footsteps, faint but slightly echoing. They weren't coming from outside, he could tell that much. Which meant that it was someone walking around in another section of the outer hallway where he was now.

Carefully listening a moment longer told him the steps were moving away from him, but slowly. Which meant that if he followed as quietly as he could, he could catch the man from behind. _And we have our volunteer for target number one. _

Putting action to thought, the spy started to slide through the hall towards the retreating steps. It wasn't long before he could see the man, a lone bandit trudging through the halls, likely quite unhappy with being stuck patrolling the dark hall. Matt followed him, keeping a decent distance away and staying low. He wanted to wait until they made it to the opposite side from the door, to minimize risk of being caught.

Twice the man did turn and look behind him, but he gave no notice that he saw his pursuer. A hint of a joyless smile pulled at Matt's mouth at the motion, _Probably just a paranoid habit. Might have helped him too, if he were just a little more alert._

After what felt like forever, the bandit made his way back to the eastern hall, as far from the west facing doors as he could get. And that's when Matthew struck, drawing his long knife and slitting the poor bastard's throat in one fluid motion. The inattentive bandit never really stood a chance.

After quietly lowering the body to the ground, the cold smile broke out in full on the Ostian assassin's face as he moved back towards the door leading to the inner rooms he noted while following his first victim. _And now that the first dead body is in play, it's time to work quickly. I'll leave the two outside alone to see if I can question them later. _

Listening at the door, Matt had to stop himself from breathing a sigh of relief as he placed exactly what the noise he'd heard earlier was. _Snoring. Those mooks are snoring up a storm in there. Which makes that room the bunks. Didn't see a second floor, so there's likely a basement accessible from the bunks for the mess. Oh this is just perfect._

Taking a quiet but deep breath, Matt took hold of the door and started to ease it open as slowly as he could, thinking about all the horrible ways this could go wrong. _It would really be just my luck to be caught by a squeaky hinge._ Fortunately luck was with him, and while there was some very slight squeaking, it wasn't enough to wake any of the men inside over the snoring. Still not wanting to tempt fate, he opened the door only just enough to let him slip in, then took a peek inside.

As expected, the room was full of roughly made bunk beds with a few footlockers intended for the possessions of the soldiers who once slept here and little else. In the far right corner of the room, he could see some flickering light coming up through a hole in the floor, confirming his guess of a sublevel for the mess. Light wasn't the only thing coming from that hole either, as sounds of a few men still awake could be just barely heard through the racquet being made by the sleeping brigands.

Easing himself into the room, Matthew counted how many were asleep and took stock of the situation. _Two guarding the outside door. One patrolling the hall. Four asleep in here. That's seven already. I don't know how many are down below, and they have to have a few other men out watching the road to keep the villagers from slipping away in the night. This is quite a little operation someone's got going. The mess looks well lit, too, so this is probably the end of my stealth work. Well, almost the end..._

A few moments later, the snoring men stopped snoring, and it wasn't because they woke up. Wiping the blood off his blade with a bed sheet, Matthew then closed the door behind him and moved something to bar it. Taking up a good position, he did his best to blend in with the darkness of the room and waited.

It wasn't long before he heard the words he was waiting for from the hole in the corner.

A voice suddenly changed it's tone to a worried one, "...hey, be quiet. Do you guys hear that?"

_That's one._

Another, rougher, voice answered, "Hear what? I don't hear nothin'."

_Two._

The first responded, "Yeah. It's quiet. It ain't never this quiet."

A third voice sounded rather nonchalant, "So what? What's wrong with a little quiet?"

Three.

The first responded again, "No, no, I'm talkin' about the snorin'! I can't hear any snorin'!"

Then a fourth voice, smoother and more articulate then the others chimed in, "He's right, those knuckleheads never sleep quietly. Something is going on."

Four...

The rough voice spoke again, quieter but still audible, "Uh...you want we should check it out?"

Matthew smiled, _And number four is the leader._

The leader's answer was predictable, "Yes, I do. You go, and stay cautious. Yell if you see anything even slightly strange."

The second voice wasn't so enthused, answering with a hesitant, "Uh, yeah, sure." But the approaching footsteps meant he was obeying.

Matthew readied himself to strike. He knew they'd notice he was here as soon as the snoring stopped, this ploy was just to give him a chance to kill one more easily and to tell him how many were down there.

As the bandit's head appeared in the hole, Matthew held his position. The man looked around a bit from that vantage point before pulling himself all the way up into the room, calling down to his boss, "I'm up. Nothing' yet."

Keeping as still and silent as the shadow he hid in, Matthew watched as the bandit readied his weapon and started approaching one of the beds. He even let the man pull the sheet back before striking.

As he saw the body of his comrade, the bandit started to yell down, "Dead! Boss, they're de-AUGH!" But his warning was cut short by Matthew's blade being rammed through the back of his head.

Holding his position, Matthew listened again for the reactions of those below. Stealth was gone, but with any luck he had put enough fear in them to tilt the odds back in his favor.

For a long moment, all was quiet from the mess below. Then the third voice spoke, and what he said was not anything Matthew was expecting, "Hey, Lars. What if it's him? What if it's the Angel of Death?"

The spy nearly choked with a combination of shock, anger and laughter at the thought. _They think I'm JAFFAR? But that means they're connected to the Black Fang and Nergal somehow then. Maybe this was a good idea after all. Of course the kids are probably down there too. I'll have to be careful... _

The first voice sounded panicked, "What? Y-you think HE's here? I-I'm not goin' up there, boss. Not for nothin'."

However, the leader's voice remained strangely calm, "If it is him, we're all dead anyway. It's just a matter of when. All we can do is pray it isn't and get ready to fight."

Taking a gamble on a chance for information, Matt moved towards the hole in the corner and called down, "Oh, Jaffar is the least of your worries right now, gentlemen."

It was quiet below for a few seconds before the leader called back, "So it would seem. Who are you? Who do you serve?"

Matthew answered, already spinning his latest lie, "My name doesn't matter. I serve Prince Zephiel."

"The prince?" The leader sounded confused, "What does the prince want with us?"

Matt crossed his fingers, hoping his instinct was right, "Vengeance. The Fang tried to have him killed you know."

The third voice cut in again, "Whoa, hey now, we're not with the Fang anymore! We heard about that, but we left before that happened!"

Putting all the disdain and disbelief into his voice that he could manage, Matthew responded, "How...convenient for you."

Quickly the leader's voice backed up his comrade's claim, "It's true. The two of us were Fang once, but we got out once we heard the Hurricane left. We have nothing to do with them anymore."

"Well then," Matt made the offer he'd been working over in his mind, "how about buying your lives with some information? Tell me where the Fang hideouts are, tell me where to find Nergal, and I'll consider letting you walk out of here alive."

The third voice was hesitant, "You sure that's a good idea, Lars? What if they find out that we ratted on 'em?"

But the leader overruled him, "Whoever's up there is good. It's that or die here." Raising his voice, he called back to Matthew, "Terms accepted. Come down here and ask whatever questions you want, just leave us alive."

Pulling a cloth from his pocket, Matthew tied it around his mouth and nose to hide his face, then pulled the cowl of his cloak over his brow to complete the effect. Fear was the weapon he would use here, so he had to look the part. Still somewhat expecting a trap, he kept his blade in hand as he dropped down the hole and landed in a crouch.

The sight that greeted him was exactly what he didn't want to see. He saw the three men as expected, but also the two boys, unconscious and right next to one of the three, the one in druid's robes. The druid, who Matthew could only assume was the leader, had his hand held over them, crackling with a dark power.

The druid sneered as Matthew stood up, and as he spoke his voice gave away that he was the leader, or Lars as the third voice called him, "Hah. You didn't think I wouldn't have an ace up my sleeve, did you? Here are my terms, Prince's man. Drop your weapons and I won't rip the souls of these children right from their earthly bodies."

_And to think he was trying to compare himself to Legault. What a scumbag. _Still, Matthew didn't really have a choice. He dropped his sword on the ground and locked eyes with the druid.

Lars shook his head, "The hidden ones too. I know your kind."

Biting back a sigh and scrapping the plan that was starting to come to mind, Matthew pulled the two throwing knives from his wrist sheaths and dropped them as well. _Now to just hope he doesn't think about the last one..._

Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy the man, as he added, "Now kick them over here."

Working up a new plan, Matthew complied while he sized up the other two men. One was fairly large and carried an axe as expected from bandits. The other was scruffy looking, but still cleaner then the axeman, and had a bow. _Odds say the bowman is the other ex-Fang. Maybe I can get info out of him. But first I have to deal with this guy. _

Once the weapons had been kicked over as requested, Lars's smile turned positively villainous. Gesturing at the large axeman, he said the words Matthew had been waiting for, "Kill him."

The axeman grinned and rushed, yelling a battle-cry as he came. So Matthew did the one thing he knew the man would not expect and sprung towards him, evading the powerful swing and coming up in a roll behind him, giving him a clear shot at the man's back.

Except that isn't who he was after at all. Ignoring the axeman, Matt drew his last hidden blade from the sheath on his back and kept his forward momentum towards the druid.

But the dark mage had reacted quickly as well, turning the energies he had already gathered towards the swiftly approaching assassin and letting them loose in the form of a powerful nosferatu spell.

There was no time to dodge. Gritting his teeth, Matthew took the brunt of the attack and forced himself to keep moving even as he felt the spell leeching the energy right out of him. He watched the druid's eyes go wide with surprise at his survival of the spell, then with a small sense of satisfaction slammed his knife right through one of said eyes.

In one swift strike, the druid had been silenced. But there was no time to rest yet. Leaving his knife where he stuck it, Matthew dropped to the ground and scooped his normal blade back up as he rolled to the side to evade the axeman's second charge. One quick pass and two strokes later, and the large man joined his master on the floor.

Turning his attention to the archer...Matthew was surprised to see the man simply drop his bow and place his hands in the air in the universal gesture of surrender.

Straightening up as much as he could through the pain and sudden onrush of fatigue thanks to the druid's spell, Matthew nodded in acceptance of the man's surrender but still kept half an eye on him as he quickly started searching through the fallen druid's pockets until he found the healing concoction he was looking for. _Guys like this always keep a vulnerary on hand. _

Keeping his blade in one hand, he started applying the salve to his wounds while talking to the archer, the beginning of a plan coming to his mind, "So looks like you're the smart one here. What's your name?"

The archer answered, "Uh, Wester. And, uh, you prob'ly don't believe me anymore but we're really not with the Fang now, I swear."

Matt actually nodded, "No, I do believe you. This is way too sloppy to be a Fang operation. Look, Wester, I've got a lot of questions that I'm hoping you have answers to, but for now I want to get these kids back to their folks. If you're interested in legitimate work, for the Prince, I've got a job for you."

Those seemed to be about the last words the man expected to hear, but he quickly nodded, "I'm listening..."

* * *

The headman shook Wester's hand vigorously, "I can't thank you enough for savin' those boys, mister Wester. If you hadn't come along when you did, I hate to think what might have happened."

Wester looked at 'Norris' from the corner of his eye, but forced a smile and waved off the headman's thanks, "Uh, no trouble. And I didn't get all of 'em, but I'm sure their leader's gone so the rest should break up on their own after a bit."

Willis's mother positively beamed at the archer, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, of course. You saved my boy and the whole town by drivin' them bandits off like that. "

Matthew spoke up at that point, putting the finishing touches on his plan, "Actually, I was hoping I could convince Wester here to hire on with me as a guard. This incident here has taught me that the roads are a bit more dangerous then I'd given them credit for. It's good coin and we'll definitely be passing through some cities where you can spend it. What do you say?"

Just as Matthew told him too, Wester scratched his chin and considered the offer, "That doesn't sound half bad, actually. I was hopin' to head back down to the lowlands before long anyway."

Some of the villagers looked a bit down, but the headman nodded, "Well, you're welcome here in Highpost anytime, son. And you as well, peddler. Mighty foolish of you to run off on your own like that, but thank you for the help all the same."

Matthew put on a slightly sheepish face, "Yeah, I was just hoping I could catch up with them before they went too far was all. No such luck, but all's well that ends well, right?" Then moving over to his cart, Matt started setting up shop, "But before I hit the road again, I believe something was mentioned before about a bit of trading."

As the people started to gather around and see what he had to offer, Matt inwardly chuckled about how this whole thing turned out. _Lies within lies. These people think I'm a peddler named Norris and Wester is a wandering merc who just so happened to run across their bandits. Wester thinks I'm working for Prince Zephiel under the guise of Norris the peddler and my real job is hunting down the Black Fang. Hope I can keep all this straight. _

Observing the ex-Fang archer a bit more while conducting business, Matthew wondered just how much use the man would be. _I've got a laundry list of questions for him, and the open road is the perfect place to ask them. With any luck, this'll be my key to finding whoever's making the morphs now. _

Then he grimaced a bit as he recalled one very important step that he'd forgotten until now. _Okay, next step is to get a report back to Ostia. Lord Hector is going to love to hear about this. _

_

* * *

_

Author's Footnote: Wow, this was my longest chapter yet. Hope the Metal Gear Matthew part was enjoyable, since that was what I was really trying to get a feel for this chapter. We know he's a good thief/spy/assassin, but actually writing his little game of Hide & Go Murder was a bit of a challenge. A fun one, though. Next time on Sword and Shadow, it's back to Guy's PoV!


	12. Guy: Sword's Purpose

_Author's Note: So here we are again, end of the month but still on time! Please keep in mind that I'm not covering every event that happens to Guy and Matt during thier travels. There's alot of time passing and things happening between chapters, so if something doesn't quite jive with an earlier chapter, it's probably this storytelling method at work. Anyway, enough excuses and on with the chapter!_

* * *

Guy - Sword's Purpose

"So you don't know him?" Guy asked the guardsman as he collected his 'payment' from the townsfolk for his efforts. It was all in supply instead of coin, but Guy was thankful enough for it.

The guard shook his head, "Sorry Guy. The name's not familiar at all, though I've heard of Dame Vaida before at least. Couldn't tell you where to find her, but wherever she is, she's fighting for the Prince, that's for damn sure."

Guy sighed and nodded, having expected as much. Grant was a hard man to find, he hadn't gotten so much as half a lead anywhere he'd been so far. And while the resupply was welcome, he was running low on gold and needed to consider finding some real work soon, whether or not he could locate the Etrurian tactician. With a shrug and a half smile, he bade farewell to the guardsman, "Well, thanks anyway. Sorry I can't stay and help more, but I need to get going then. Take care."

Holding up one hand to delay Guy's departure, the guard added, "Hold on a second. Just because I don't know who he is or where she is doesn't mean I can't help you figure something out."

That got his attention, and Guy nodded him to continue, "Yeah? What do you mean?"

"Well," the guard grinned a bit and inclined his head towards where the bloody part of Guy's recent efforts on the town's behalf had taken place, "skills like yours don't show up that often, and that's the truth. Sacae may be famous for it's swordmasters, but that doesn't mean your lot is commonplace around here, and when you do show up and start winning fights, people talk. If your Grant is working for Dame Vaida, and she's working for the Prince, then if you sign up with one of the mercenary bands fighting for that side, you might get noticed."

Guy considered that, and the more he thought it over the better the idea sounded. Real mercenary work would pay better then what he'd been doing, and it would get him back into real battlefields. Not to mention that if the man was right, Grant might get word of his presence and if he did he'd definitely send someone for him. Nodding to the guard, Guy thanked him for the advice, "That's not a bad plan. I'd be fighting on the same side at the least, so I can't really see a downside." Laughing, he half mumbled, "wish I'd thought of that myself..."

Chuckling, the guardsman gave Guy a friendly slap on the shoulder and a half salute in farewell, "Nobody can do everything. Good luck out there, Guy. And don't worry about us, if those phony tax collectors have any friends who come looking for them I'm sure we can handle ourselves."

With a final wave, Guy turned and started down the road to the next town, inwardly laughing a bit at the thought of more of those thugs making a nuisance of themselves. _They looked tough, but they weren't very skilled or even that bright. I think I killed three of them before they even realized I was Sacean..._

* * *

A few days of following the road and asking at other towns had gotten Guy directed towards a hill where a few different mercenary companies were camping, and rumor had it that they all worked for the Prince's side of the conflict. _Well,_ Guy thought with an inward laugh and a small smile, _I certainly don't expect that only some of them are. Imagine camping right next to people working for the enemy. Wouldn't THAT be awkward?_

In fact...putting his hand up to his brow and squinting a bit, he could see the very hill in question up ahead now. And sure enough, there seemed to be forms moving around on it...though he couldn't make out any detail on whatever standards were planted from this distance. He'd have to get closer, but he knew the difference between the King's and the Prince's crests, so if saw the former flying he'd just have to leave before he got too close. _And if they are the King's and any lookouts spot me, I'll just tell them I'm passing through looking for a friend of mine. That's...not really a lie, right?_

Guy kept riding on towards the hill as he struggled with that thought. It was a lie of omission, he couldn't even try and fool himself into thinking otherwise. But saying otherwise would likely get him killed. It was definitely the smart thing to do, but was it a breach of Sacean pride? The pride of his people was in more then just being honest, it was in being cunning and skilled as well. So doing something stupid wouldn't really go with that either, right? Shaking his head as he rode, Guy really began to understand why so few Sacaens ever leave the plains. Life out in the rest of the world was way too complicated.

Bringing his mind back to the moment, Guy breathed a sigh of relief to see that all of his worrying was for nothing. As he had gotten closer, he had come to the point where he could clearly see the Prince's banner atop the hill. He was in the right place. Urging his horse onward, he picked up the pace a bit, now eager to reach one of the lookouts and get on with what he was here for.

He didn't have to wait long, either. As he moved, he could see a man coming down the road towards him from the hill, armed too, so probably one of the very mercenaries Guy was hoping to sign up with.

Putting a smile on, Guy waved at the man as he approached and got straight to the point, "Hey there! I'm a merc looking for work and I got pointed here, could you tell me who I should talk to about that?"

The approaching man stopped in his tracks and just stared at Guy for a long moment.

Guy frowned a bit, having expected a response, but was willing to chalk up the rudeness to simply being on edge. There was a civil war going on right now and all. Riding up a bit closer, he continued his greeting, "The name's Guy. I know I look young, but I promise I've seen my share of fighting before, and I'll be worth every gold I get. You won't be disappointed."

The man didn't move. He stared at Guy a bit longer before saying a single word, in a tone that dripped with repressed anger, "Sacean."

The way he said that made the hairs on the back of Guy's neck stand on end, and he instinctively placed one hand down on the hilt of his blade as he sized the man up. He was strong, that much was clear, for all that he wasn't all that big. Bigger then Guy himself at least, but that wasn't exactly hard. But he carried a large axe across his back, and that said volumes about his power, as a professional just doesn't carry a weapon they can't use easily. But what stood out to Guy the most was the look in his eye. Half-crazed, half-empty, it was a look that Guy had seen before in some of his opponents. The look of a man who threw everything into a battle, barely caring if he lived or died.

The look of a berserker.

Guy nodded slowly at the man, and slid off his horse, just in case, "Yeah, that's right. I'm a swordmaster of Sacae." _That's your warning, _he thought as he steadied his own breathing, _I don't know what your problem is, but don't do anything stupid._

The warning, however, went unheeded. For whatever reason, the man before Guy drew his axe from it's harness on his back and snarled, his face twisted into a mask of hatred and screamed as he lunged, "Sacaen SCUM! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Guy's sword was out in a flash, and with a quick dash forward and a slip to the side, he dodged his attacker's initial rush. Settling into a defensive position, he held his own blow, not taking the opening offered, and snapped at the man, "Hey, is this how you greet people here? What's your problem?"

But the berserker was past reasonable at this point. Recovering his balance, he swung around and charged again, roaring as he came, "I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU BASTARDS!"

At this point Guy's training took over. Whatever sent this man into a killing rage, there didn't seem to be any bringing him out of it. He was intent on taking Guy's life, and while Guy really didn't want to kill him without getting an idea of what the heck was going on, it didn't seem like he had much choice.

Timing his movements, Guy predicted when the swing would come and slipped away, evading the horizontal arc entirely. That was the problem with axes, or so his teachers had always said and his experience mostly proven right. They have power, enough to destroy a man in a single blow, but unless the wielder is of exceptional skill, the swings are incredibly easy to predict. _And what you can predict, you can avoid._

Now Guy was at his attacker's right, while the follow-through from the man's mighty swing had carried his weapon off to the right. It was the perfect positioning for the swordsman to score a couple of quick slashes, which the crazed berserker barely seemed to notice, before retreating back to put more room between the two of them. Guy wanted that space right now more then anything. The more space was between them, the more room his assailant had to build momentum and the further in advance he gave away the angle of his attack.

Blind to the pain from the cuts in his side, the axeman relentlessly rushed again, but the nimble Sacaen already had his measure. The swing was wild and reckless, a powerful overhanded blow that would have quite likely split Guy cleanly in two lengthwise had it connected. But as the axe fell, Guy had already moved backwards, evading the attack by a mere six or seven inches of air.

And even as he stepped back, Guy fell into a countering stance, using the backwards motion to coil himself into place to spring forward again. The thrusting point of his killing edge, such as it was, was raised, leveled at where Guy gauged the man's heart to be, and the moment the axe bit into the ground from the force of the attack, he lunged.

His aim was significantly better then his attacker's, and with the force of Guy's surprising strength for his stature and the forward momentum of his lunge behind it, the blade penetrated deep enough into it's target's unarmored chest to come out of his back, covered in blood. Unwilling to trust the kill was clean considering the man's state, Guy wrenched his sword in the wound, forcing the berserker to the ground with the leverage he now had, not to mention the sheer pain of the motion.

The berserker, whoever he was, twitched a few times on the ground but otherwise had stopped moving once he was forced down. The thrust had killed.

Guy exhaled deeply, the rush from the sudden battle starting to leave...until he noticed three women standing on the path where the now dead axeman had some from. Two of them with bows pointed right at him, and the third with a drawn sword.

Wincing at his poor luck, Guy tried to explain what had happened, "Uh, look, I don't know who this guy is or if he was a friend of yours or what, but he just attacked me as soon as he saw me. I was just defending myself, I swear."

The swordswoman did not lower her blade, nor the other two their bows. Instead, she took a few steps forward, still in a fighting stance, "I'll only tell you this once. Step away from your weapon, get on your knees and put your hands on your head. You can tell your story to the captain. Do anything else and the twins here will shoot your horse, then you. Is that clear?"

One of the archers, distinguishable from the other only by the green scarf she wore in contrast to the other's blue one, frowned, "Hey, Aerie, we've been in the company longer then you, why are you the one in charge here?"

The blue scarffed archer nodded, "Yeah, we've totally got seniority over you, you should be taking orders from us!"

Guy just blinked incredulously at the sudden disagreement.

The swordswoman, apparently Aerie by name, growled at her allies, "No arguing in front of the enemy!" Then back to Guy, she added, "You better comply fast. We're not the only ones who heard that fight, so more people will be here soon, and they might decide to shoot first and ask questions later."

Thinking quickly, Guy sized up the situation. His sword was still buried in the berserker's chest, and his horse had back away from the battle a bit once he had dismounted. There was no way to get a weapon in hand fast enough to fight back if the archers started shooting and that woman charged him.

_This really is just my luck. _Sighing, he stepped away from the man's body and got down to his knees, placing his hands on his head. He didn't really see what else he could do right now besides hope that this captain would hear him out fairly.

* * *

"Roan was a friend of mine, you know? Formed the company with me, only one of the originals left besides me." The bald man in heavy leather armor was sitting on a rock and leaning forward, knees on his elbows and chin resting on his folded hands as he addressed his captive.

The man was called Branta, warrior and captain of the uncreatively named Branta's Badgers mercenary company, to which the man who attacked Guy on the road apparently belonged. Standing near him were the four others in the company: Aerie the hero, the twin snipers Teal and Noah, and finally the bishop Piet who was currently seeing to the last rights for the fallen berserker.

Guy glared right back at the man, feeling little sympathy for the group's loss due to the circumstances, and more then a bit of annoyance at the whole situation, "Look, I'm sorry I killed your friend but I already told you that he attacked ME! I was asking him to tell me who I needed to see about hiring on with a company and he just grabbed his axe and rushed me. What was I supposed to do, stand there and let him kill me!"

Aerie practically spat at that, "Again with that? What reason could he possibly have to just attack you out of the blue like that?"

Guy growled back at her, "I. Don't. Know."

"Bullshit." Aerie grabbed Guy's braid and jerked his head back, "Who sent you? You're with the King's men, aren't you? Start talking, and the truth this time!"

Going from annoyed to outright anger, the Sacaean practically screamed at her, "I'm not lying!"

"He's actually not, you know."

The tense situation was broken by the calm voice of Piet as he stepped away from Roan's body and walked back towards where everyone was gathered. Nodding sympathetically to Guy, he then turned and gave his leader a very hard look, "I'm disappointed Branta. You know as well as I do what happened there, and yet you're sitting there letting the girls believe otherwise."

Branta looked away from the holy man, "Roan was my friend, Piet. He had his faults, but he'd been with me through some rough times. You can't blame me for being angry."

Piet shook his head, "I don't blame you for your anger. I blame you for how you let it control you."

At this point, the three ladies and Guy were all well and truly confused. Teal and Noah looked back and forth between Branta and Piet a few times, then asked, "Captain?" "Yeah, what's he talking about?"

Branta remained silent, so Piet stepped in to explain, "After the very first mission the Badgers had taken, they had returned to Branta and Roan's hometown to rest, resupply and try and find someone who could use healing staffs they could hire as they'd taken heavy injuries and a few losses. The battle, I should add, was against a band of Sacaen raiders."

Guy nodded, slowly beginning to understand, "When he charged at me, he was yelling 'die Sacaen scum' and stuff like that."

Piet nodded as well, "Well, that was only part of it. Their hometown is on the border of Bern and the plains, but it's purely Berneese in culture. The nomads traded with them often, but were not really welcome to live there, you see. Of course, where there is trade, there is money. And where there is money, there is violence. Upon returning home, Roan found his entire family dead. Murdered by vengeful Sacaens after his son had killed one of theirs in a dispute over mere coin."

Finally finding his voice, Branta picked up the story, "He was a good man before then. Still was after, at least so long as none of your kind were around. Something in him snapped that day. So long as Piet or I were around, we could keep him from going axe-crazy and butchering every Sacaen he saw, but when he was on his own..." the warrior shrugged, "when I sent him to get some water from the well on the road, we weren't exactly expecting a nomad to come walking up the _south_ side of the hill like that."

"Besides," Piet added with a hint of a sad smile, "the proud people of Sacae tell no lies. Even their raiders and murderers will be cheerfully honest about what they're doing."

Aerie let Guy's hair go, and turned on her captain, "You mean you KNEW he was telling the truth? And you were just going to sit there and let me beat him? What the hell is your problem!"

But before Branta could respond, once more Piet intervened, "Peace, Aerie. He knows he was wrong, what he needs now is time to grieve his friend, not your righteous anger, justified as it may be, heaped on his head."

The swordswoman didn't seem overly convinced, but backed off. She turned around and almost stalked away before Guy called out, "Hey, think you could untie me and give me my sword back?"

"Oh, right," moving back over, Aerie untied the rope binding Guy's hands and handed him back the sword she had taken. Then looking more then a bit embarrassed she muttered, "Ah, sorry about that. I had no idea Roan even had a problem like that, I just thought he was angry in general. But...he was still one of us, you know?"

Still angry himself, Guy wasn't quite in the mood to forgive, just yet, and turned to go get his horse and try his luck with one of the other companies around here, replying with a gruff, "Whatever. What's done is done," to the apologetic heroine.

But as he started to go, the sound of hoofbeats coming up the hill caught his attention. A lone man, in the Prince's colors, riding up the hill right towards the Badgers. Seeing that the man wasn't coming for him at all, Guy shrugged and kept going. _Got nothing to do with me._

Murmured voices could be heard behind him, then Branta's voice loudly groaning, "Of all the timing." Then it progressed from a groan to a full shout of command, "Gear up Badgers, we've got work to do. And...you, boy, wait just a moment!"

Guy paused and looked back over his shoulder just to confirm that the man was actually calling to him. Seeing him approach though made Guy's hand slide down to the hilt of his blade in a mixture of irritation and paranoia. Without bothering to hide the bitterness in his tone, he asked, "What?"

Seeing Guy's hand fall to his blade, Branta stopped in his tracks and held up one hand in a gesture of peace, "I'm not coming with a blade drawn here. You said your name was Guy, right? Well no matter who was at fault, thanks to that swordarm of yours we're down one blade, and I don't like going into battle with only two frontliners to protect Piet and the archers."

"Are you serious?" Guy asked with a half poleaxed expression, "After all that, are you trying to talk about hiring me?"

Branta snorted, "I don't like it anymore then you do, but the fact is that I've seen Roan tear a ballista bolt out of his shoulder and club a man to death with it, and you killed him in one clean stab. Can't say I'll enjoy it, but I need somebody strong and you seem like you can do the job."

Guy considered a moment thinking over his option. _They seem pretty skilled. And...I can't really blame him for being mad at me too much, I'd be ticked off too if someone killed one of my friends for any reason. Well, if I had any. There's also fewer of them, more chances for me to stand out. This may not actually be a bad idea..._

After a moment, he finally nodded and asked the first question any mercenary brings up, "What's the pay?"

Turning around, Branta waved Guy to follow, "Show me what you've got in a real battle instead of a one on one and we'll talk about that when we get back. Grab your stuff and let's get moving."

* * *

As they waited for their scout to return, Guy considered the job the Badgers had been given. A small town, Granvide by name, had decided to openly declare support for the Prince over the King. Of course they didn't have the good sense to wait until the Prince's soldiers were there in the town to do this, so it was up to the Badgers to get there and protect from any attempts to reclaim it by force from the King's men until the Prince's people could get a garrison unit there. And since Branta didn't want the fighting inside the town itself, they were going to try and intercept the enemy on the way in.

Eventually, the heroine Aerie returned to the group from her scouting mission, moving straight to Branta to report, "The king's men are definitely camped over in the woods east of town. I saw five lookouts, so we're probably up against anywhere from ten to twenty soldiers."

Branta stroked his chin, "It is getting late. Probably waiting either for sundown to attack, or just going to hit Granvide tomorrow after getting a good rest. Either's not a bad idea. See any signs of wyverns?"

Aerie shook her head, "Not that I could see, but I didn't risk getting that close."

As one, Teal and Noah giggled, "If there are any, they'll wish they stayed on the ground anyway." "Yeah, just leave the flying lizards to us."

Branta nodded, "That's why I hired you. Alright, here's the plan. Aerie, take the new guy and move in first. Get into a good defensive spot and try to provoke them to your position. I'll move in behind you and pick off who I can with my bow before I join the melee. Piet, you stay back with Teal and Noah, keep an eye out for wyverns and help who you need to. Girls, your first targets are wyverns, second any mages that show up and then just pick off anyone who tries to get behind us."

Guy nodded at his role, having fully expected to be sent in first. Grant had often given him similar roles, actually, at least when it wasn't Lord Hector and Lord Oswin who were taking point.

Then Aerie tapped him on the shoulder, "Alright, stay low and follow me. Once we're into the treeline itself, we've got an advantage, so that's our first goal."

Guy half smiled, "Trust me, I know how to fight in the woods. Trust me to do my part."

With a final nod, the heroine let the way in. The pair kept low, moving slowly through the grass towards the trees, keeping an eye out to spot the lookouts before they saw them. Once they were close enough, Aerie signaled Guy to her side and whispered, "How fast can you close the distance in?"

Measuring it as best he could in the fading late afternoon light, Guy thought it over then gave his answer, "Three seconds, five if I'm moving in to attack instead of evade."

Aerie's stare was incredulous, "That's impossible."

"Watch me."

Needing to see this for herself, the woman shrugged, "Alright then. You charge in and get one, I'll cover you."

The plan set, Guy ran one thumb along the back of his blade to focus his mind, and then launched himself towards one of the men on the edge of the camp.

The soldier barely had time to react before he was cut down in Guy's first pass, the Sacaen taking only a second to recover from the attack and continue on towards the trees.

Someone shouted, of course, and the alarm went up. A man on horseback charged over from another point around the perimeter, and began to move in on Guy as soon as he saw him, but was quickly distracted by a handaxe slamming into his horse's side.

Guy grinned as Aerie moved in behind him, charging the off balance cavalier to finish what she'd started. Shield forward as she ran, she knocked his hastily raised lance to the side, pulled her handaxe from the horse and planted it in it's rider's face instead.

More enemies pushed out of the wood to respond to the sudden attack, but while Guy and Aerie moved into their places, Branta and the snipers fired on any of the King's soldiers who appeared. The battle was joined in earnest, and Guy put everything that wasn't his blade and the fight before him from his mind.

Chaos was the rule of the evening as the fight went on, though it didn't last long. No wyverns came, and the one sage who stuck his head out from cover long enough to cast a spell was met by two arrows and a flung axe all at once. Guy, Aerie and Branta all took a few hits, but the other two always moved to cover the retreat of the injured one, and Piet was ready with his staff whenever anyone fell back to his position, allowing the healed fighter to move right back into the fray.

Though there were more of them, the King's men were simply outmatched. The surprise attack and quick seizing of the defensive positions by the Badgers broke whatever advantage they may have been able to get from their numbers. Before long, the battle was done. The last soldier being slammed against a tree and interrogated roughly about what reinforcements might be on the way by Branta himself while the others rolled up their sleeves and saw to the gruesome business of doing something about the corpses...as well as the equally unsavory but practical business of looting them.

* * *

Aerie stepped back from the tent she'd just finished setting up, a powerful yawn distracting her from admiring her handiwork at all. After an attempt to shake off the exhaustion from the long travel and the fight after it, she turned and sat down near the swordsman she'd fought with earlier.

Guy was focused on his weapon at that moment, taking a whetstone to the edge to keep it sharp after the use it had just gotten, but he wasn't so absorbed in it he didn't notice someone sitting near him. Still, he offered her only a small nod acknowledging she was there and kept working.

She didn't seem to mind, though, and talked to him anyway, "I have to admit, I'm impressed. I've never seen a Sacaen swordmaster in action before, though I've heard the rumors. It's still something else to see it in person, though."

A shrug was Guy's only response. He still didn't know if he really wanted to stay with this group, or get close to the people in it at all. _Probably not any danger of that, even if I do stay. I killed one of theirs on my way in. Even if it was his fault, that's not something anyone can just overlook. Which...is probably for the best anyway. Best to keep things professional._

Aerie didn't continue on, knowing when someone didn't want to talk when she saw it. They sat there for a bit, quietly enjoying the rest and waiting for Branta to get back.

They weren't waiting long. Branta and Piet came walking out from the town, looking almost comical carrying a basket each, which they promptly handed to the twins to sort out.

"Provisions from a grateful town," Branta explained at Guy's curious expression, "Little bonuses like this are one more reason I like to keep the fighting out in the wilderness. People are a lot less generous when their homes get smashed up and lives disrupted, even if we do save their skins."

That made good enough sense to Guy, so he went over to see what he could snag from the baskets while the others talked.

Aerie in particular had a few questions, "So what's the situation then? And what did you do with that last soldier anyway?"

Branta snorted, "Him? I let him go. Good warning for the king's forces. Might give 'em some pause, make 'em go back for more people, which gives us more time for our reinforcements to get here. Got what I needed out of him anyway."

Piet chuckled, "That's assuming he doesn't take this wonderful opportunity to desert. Nobody else in his unit left alive, no reason for them to assume we'd spare one."

Noah smirked, "Well, that's counting on an enlisted man to do the intelligent thing. Small chance of that."

Teal giggled at her sister's joke, but Aerie gave them both a glare, "And what makes us mercenaries any smarter then soldiers? We fight for a living, same as them."

In unison, the two responded, "We get paid more."

"Do you want to hear the assignment or not?" Branta interrupted the bickering with a rather tired grunt. Everyone shut up, and once he let the silence build for a moment, he continued, "So we're going to be remaining here until the garrison unit arrives. I doubt anything will happen tonight so go ahead and get some rest, but tomorrow we'll be splitting up guarding and scouting shifts. Only the six of us to protect a town, so I want to make sure we get the most out of what we've got. That clear?"

Everyone nodded, then Branta walked off to the side a bit, gesturing for Guy to follow him, "Alright, you're good enough, there's no question about that. So what are we negotiating, a payment just for this job, or a cut as part of the company?"

Guy was quiet, thinking it over. But it didn't really take him that long before he answered, "A cut. I'll stay on."

As if he'd expected that response, Branta nodded, "Alright then. We'll talk in the morning. Get some sleep."

Heading back to the camp, Guy finished off what he'd raided from the basket, carefully put away his sword and other belongings, and laid down to do just that. Staring up at the night sky, he wondered if he'd made the right decision. _Well it's an interesting group at least. Even if we got off on a really bad foot. Good to be back in the fight, if nothing else. _

* * *

_Author's Footnote: Whee, original characters. I know they're not popular in some circles of the hobby, but I enjoy throwing them in there and they're hardly the focus of the story so what's the harm? Anyway, hope you all enjoyed and as always, reviews, good or bad, are always welcome~_


	13. Matthew: Shadow's Lies

Matthew: Shadow's Lies

* * *

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the retreating form of the messenger that Lord Oswin had sent to get his report. He'd had alot to cover in it, largely reporting on the building civil war from the angle of the common folk it was affecting, but on the matter of his primary objective it was sadly deficient. Wester had been of some small help, but not nearly enough to give him any actual clues as to Nergal's whereabouts. He had at least guided Matthew towards another batch of ex-Fangs, who had also not had any contact with Nergal or any morphs at all in quite some time.

_That at least tells me that he's cutting his losses and either starting from scratch or not bothering with normal humans at all, since he's not bothering to pull the remnants of the Black Fang together. That's...something at least. _It wasn't nearly enough to feel like it was worth reporting, but he knew that was just the frustration talking. Lord Hector would want to hear this, even if it wasn't much. Unfortunately, that was the last bit of information on Nergal that Matthew would likely be able to send back for awhile.

The messenger hadn't just been there to get his report. He also brought a couple things for Matthew from Lord Oswin. Namely, more gold and new orders. The gold was certainly welcome, as just having it would make him seem a bit more successful as a peddler, not to mention allow him to stock up better before reaching his next real objective. But it was the new orders that he was more concerned with. They had to come from Oswin, because there was no way Lord Hector would tell him to consider Nergal the secondary objective and focus more on the war as the immediate concern. But Lord Hector had either approved them, or had simply given Oswin the authority to oversee this on his own. Either way, that meant Matthew had to change his focus whether he liked it or not.

_It might not be a total loss, I suppose. We have reason to believe that the King is who hired the Fang to kill the prince off, so the King's forces may still be in contact with the Fang's remnants. It's a long shot, but I'll look for it anyway. _

After the messenger was far enough away, Matthew waved his guardsman over, "Alright, I've got new orders, so the hunt for the Fang is getting tabled for awhile."

Wester scratched his chin while he considered what that meant, "So...does this mean you won't be needin' me any more?"

Matthew shrugged, "Having a guard does make me look more legitimate, which I could use, since I'll need every advantage I can get to avoid suspicion from the King's men. That's where I'm heading, but that'll all I'll say. The less you know about what I'm actually looking for, the safer I am. So..." he hefted the purse of gold he'd been sent, "I'll give you two options. I can pay you out here, and you get the hell out of Bern entirely. You already know enough that unless you're working for me, I don't want you around where I'm working at all. Or, you can stay on. I could use the guard to keep up appearances, and I won't pretend your bow isn't worth the price in a pinch. But whichever you decide, I need to know now."

He had expected a polite refusal to accompany him any further, and a quick decision to take the money and run. But instead the archer seemed to actually be weighing the options. After a bit of thinking, Wester grumbled a bit, "I wish I knew which side of this showdown Brendan Reed would come down on. Or even Lloyd and Linus, they were good guys back then too."

Matthew silently raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't been expecting anything like that from the man. Wester was generally extremely quiet unless asked a direct question, and had never just volunteered his thoughts like that before.

The archer shook his head and leaned on the side of the cart, "You know, I joined the Fang 'cause I believed in what Reed was saying. About how the corrupt nobles were just running roughshod all over the common folk, and they needed someone to stand up for 'em. Maybe with a knife in the dark instead of anything out in the open, but it got the message across all the same. The King..." he shook his head, "he's a right bastard these days it sounds like. But I don't know if your Prince'll be any better. I'm just not sure what's the right thing to do here."

"You're actually concerned about what's 'right'?" Matthew couldn't help but snort at what he was hearing.

Of course, Wester didn't take that overly well and glared at the spy in response, "Hey, I was part of the old Fang, and we had values. Not like the creeps that Nergal guy brought in with him."

Matthew quirked an eyebrow again and countered, "So was your druid pal, from what you've told me. You remember him, right? The guy who was blockading off a town for mysterious reasons and was perfectly willing to kill a couple of kids he had hostage? Where does working for a guy like that fit into your morality?"

The archer winced at the retort, "...right. I didn't know Lars was gonna pull stuff like that when I left with him. Leaving the Fang was dangerous, you know? Real good chance they'd come for you, and not to politely ask you to come back. I didn't much like what he was doing...but Lars was strong. Strong enough to maybe survive if they sent someone after us. I was scared what would happen if I struck off alone, so I stuck with him." He sighed as he hung his head a bit at the thought, "I suppose that makes me a coward, huh?"

He could have pressed on, but picking the guy apart wasn't what he was after, so Matthew just shook his head, "Nothing wrong with putting your own skin first. Just don't try and get up on a morality horse if you do."

"What about you?" Wester asked, "You think what you're doing is right, don't you?"

Matthew shrugged, "Yeah, but...not because I made the decision. I trust L..." he almost said his actual lord's name, but caught himself and inwardly cursed the clumsiness, "my lord. I let him decide what's right and wrong, and I do what I have to so he can succeed. Including things that he would hate me if he heard the details of." He chuckled there, as Lord Hector was alot harder to phase then most, but even he wasn't up to hearing the fine details of some of Matthew's work, "I don't fight for a cause, and I try not to think about right and wrong. I fight for him, and I just have to trust that he IS the man for the job. It's all I can do."

Wester was quiet for a bit, considering that. Which was fine by Matthew, he needed a moment to get back into character as well, he'd let a bit too much of himself slip out there. It surprised him a bit, since after he'd said it, he realized how true the sentiment was. Lord Hector definitely wasn't a saint, but that was part of what made Matthew trust him. _But this is no time to be thinking about that. I was planning on trying to get information from the soldiers eventually anyway, I just need to speed it up._

Letting the archer keep thinking, Matthew got the cart ready to go. He wanted to be back on the road as soon as he could instead of waiting around here. As he stepped up into the drivers seat, he called back without turning, "Look, I'm getting a move on. If you haven't caught up by the time I reach that next hill, I'll take that as your answer and leave your gold there for you." Without waiting for a response at all, he prodded the horse into motion.

It didn't take long before he heard rapid footsteps behind, so he slid over to the left side of the seat to make room as Wester caught up and pulled himself up into the cart. After catching his breath, the archer looked over at the spy, though Matthew didn't turn his head to meet the man's eyes.

With a chuckle, Wester shook his head in amusement, "One of these days I want to meet that Prince of yours, if he gets loyalty like that outta guys like you."

Matthew's only response was a noncommittal shrug. _Yeah, that's not going to happen. And now that I know he's coming along, I know what kind of plans to start making..._

* * *

The camp of General Serdin is where Matthew decided to gather his information. He was high enough in the King's esteem and running enough of this conflict that Matthew figured his camp would have some choice bits of intelligence. And better yet, rumor had it that he was keeping morale up with his troops by giving his commanders a lot of leeway to award bonuses to their soldiers, as well as being willing to spend the coin to try and hire some of the Prince's mercenary forces away from him. It was a great place for a peddler to try and get himself into, and for completely legitimate reasons.

Though even that did come with its own problems. Such as needing to compete with actual merchants who had the same thought, but Matthew was fairly certain he could find the right balance of being successful enough to justify staying, but not so successful he'd stand out. But no matter what, he would need to do a lot of talking. Which was fine, since talking to people was basically the entire point...for him. He wasn't sure just how much he wanted his current guard talking in the camp, but he couldn't exactly stop him from socializing, He would just have to coach Wester before they got there on what the story was, and make sure he stuck to it.

Ironically, the main reason Matthew was even willing to take the risk of trusting this guy as far as he did was the fact that he was an ex-Fang. The same group he had recently been fighting against, who's behind the scenes leader he was trying to hunt down now. Being a Fang meant Wester at the very least knew how to keep a secret. There was still some worry that he might try to sell Matthew out, but somehow he wasn't worried about it too much. It wasn't like he actually trusted the guy, but his gut told him that Wester wasn't the type to pull a flat out betrayal like that, and he did trust his gut. At least on professional matters.

They still had a bit to go before they reached the camp, as well as a couple of stops to make to stock up on the right kind of merchandise. Plenty of time for him to get everything in order and make sure he could pull this off.

* * *

An officer stopped their cart as they approached the camp, which Matthew had been fully expecting. He offered the man a wave and a cheerful grin as he came closer, "Afternoon, sir."

The officer gave a weary nod in response, then got straight to business, "Peddler, are you? I'll need your name, your man's name, a list of what you're selling, how long you plan to be here, and for you to step away from your cart so I can look through it."

Matthew just nodded along with all of this, then slid out of the cart and motioned Wester to follow as he answered the questions, "Not a problem, sir. The name's Norris, my guard here is Wester and he's freelance, not guild. I'm selling some things the soldiers might appreciate on the trail, some honey, dried fruits, nuts and preserves to supplement rations with. Some good blankets and a few coats, scarves and other things to help with poor weather. Also a couple of excellent small knives, good for skinning, carving, things like that. I doubt they'd be much use in a fight though. Some other odds and ends you can see for yourself back there too."

The officer was already going through the contents in the back as he listened, then continued with the questions once Matthew stopped talking, "Any weapons?"

"For sale?" Matthew asked, "None unless you count the small knives. For ourselves, yes. I carry a blade," he tapped the one at his side, "and I keep a long knife under the seat in case of emergencies. Wester here has his bow and a couple of knives, you'd have to ask him how many."

"Three," the archer offered unprompted.

Matthew resisted the urge to smile wider as he heard the officer chuckle, then waited for the line he knew was coming.

"Well, you're awfully cooperative." the man noted as he did indeed check under the seat for the listed knife, "I'm not sure if I should be thankful or more suspicious." Then he frowned, "I think I'll settle on suspicious. You've got a hidden compartment here, open it up."

Matthew just nodded and walked over to open up the hidden hatch under the seat, "Sure. What's in there isn't for sale, I keep some dry clothes, hard rations and a bit of my gold in there, so if the cart breaks or I get burgled I should have something left at least."

The officer looked through it and sure enough, found exactly what he was told he would find, then cast an odd look at the 'merchant'.

Now Matthew did allow himself to grin wider, "I'm ex-city guard, which is why I know the drill, and how I found that hatch in the first place myself. The guy I bought the cart from didn't even know it was there."

"Gate duty?"

"Only once a year, when they needed extra hands for the harvest market crowd. Normally I handled inner city patrols. The gate guys showed me the tricks though, and the questions were down to rote by the end of the first damned day."

Finally the officer nodded and allowed Matthew to close the compartment. He was satisfied by the story, it made everything he saw fit into place and didn't quite put 'Norris' into the category where he was so unassuming that he became clearly suspicious. Matthew had seen a couple of other spies caught that way, by being so good at not drawing attention that they drew attention because of it, a mistake he wasn't about to make.

As the officer waved them through and told them who to see about setting up their business and camp, Matthew thanked him and didn't let the chuckle he was feeling inside show. This had been the easy part. The fun part would be sneaking back out alone later to recover the equipment he'd stashed out there before even coming in view of the camp, then sneaking back in unseen with it. But hey, what was life without a little challenge every now and again?

* * *

A pikeman was looking over one of the small jars of preserves Matthew had brought for sale and looking somewhat pained, "This...I'd like to get it, but..."

Matthew winced, "The price?"

The soldier nodded, "Yeah. Maybe this is what you can get for it in a good town, but soldier's wages aren't that much. And worse, we're largely getting paid in chits instead of real coin..."

"The old royal IOU, huh?" Matthew had found that out in a bit of snooping around earlier, but made a show of sympathy and thinking it over for a bit. After what he thought was long enough to be realistic, he smiled at the man, "Alright, here's an idea. You get your commanding officer over here, and I'll see if I can work out something with the chits. And if I can manage to sell him anything while I'm at it, I'll give you a discount on the preserves." He gave him a wink at that offer, "being able to say that brass shops with Norris is good for business."

Looking relieved and amused, the pikeman went to go talk his CO into a chat with the peddler. This being the military, a simple squad leader couldn't make a decision like that on his own either, but he did like the idea so the officer went up the chain to HIS commanding officer who could.

One meeting with a few mid-ranking officers later, and 'Norris' had worked out a system to take army chits as well as coin, not to mention making a few contacts with the officers. Not to mention the other soldiers that were coming in to see what this peddler who would take army chits had for sale.

And a few days later, he had his first chance to try and placate some 'rival' merchants who didn't want to take army chits as they'd be useless if the King's forces lost, but now had to start because some idiot amateur went and took the risk so they'd all look un-patriotic if they didn't follow suit. It went about as Matthew had expected it to, with him doing lots of laughing it off and obviously fake apologizing and trying to stir up some loyalty to the king in the other merchants. Which largely only served to make them more irritated...and make Matthew a couple more friends among the soldiers who happened to overhear some of this. The merchants weren't who he was going to get his information from anyway.

A few more days like that passed, with 'Norris' quickly running out of stock. He spent a bit of time taking requests for specific things wanted, particularly from the low and mid ranking brass he'd gotten in good with, and hit the road to go and restock.

* * *

Wester looked back over his shoulder at the retreating camp, then back at his employer and decided it was safe enough to venture a whispered question, "So...did you actually get any good information from 'em?"

Matthew flicked his own eyes around to make sure it was safe before responding in a quiet but not quite whispered tone of his own, "Nah, this run wasn't for actually gathering intel. This was for making contacts. Next time is when the I'll start picking up the good stuff. Good job on keeping your mouth shut and fending off the army recruiters, by the way."

The archer shrugged, "Weren't that hard. I don't talk around strangers much anyway and I sure as cured shit don't wanna join the army."

That got a snicker from the spy, "Cured shit. That's a new one. I don't even want to imagine what that would smell like."

A snort was Wester's only reply to that. But a few miles longer down the road he had to ask another question that had been bugging him, "So...how exactly are you gonna afford new stock when half your money is army chits now?"

"I've still got plenty left from my employers. Also, leave worrying about details like that to me."

Wester was quiet for a moment, then sighed, "You're gonna steal it, aren't you?"

"And risk selling stolen product to the army? I don't know where any given soldier is from, and I don't want to risk stealing something that someone might recognize as being from their hometown. Then they might ask me questions about the town, the person I got it from, all that stuff. And you don't learn the small talk when you steal, you learn it when you buy." Matthew shook his head, " So no, I'm going to honestly purchase my stock with stolen money instead."

The archer could not think of how to respond to that logic.

* * *

Between the money he had leftover and the money he later acquired along the way, resupplying had not been a problem for Matthew. With a new batch of merchandise to pedal to the soldiers, he turned his cart back towards the camp and his attention towards how best to get the kind of information Lord Oswin would want.

However, even with all of his preparation, he was not expecting what happened when he tried to re-enter the camp.

"Peddler Norris?" A different guard, one he hadn't seen at all during his previous time at the camp, stopped Matthew's cart on the way in.

Immediately he felt uneasy. The guard's tone was level and not openly antagonistic, but extremely firm. Could be that he just took his job seriously, but it more likely meant he had specific orders involving 'Norris'. The fact that there were half a dozen other soldiers nearby, none of them looking bored or distracted in the least, didn't help the feeling either. But while Matthew was already trying to run through the long list of things that could be going on in his mind, 'Norris' had no reason to be anything but cooperative.

So he offered the guard a tired smile and motioned for Wester to hop out of the cart, "That's me." Easily climbing out of the cart himself he kept his tone casual as he spoke, "same as last time, right? The merchandise is all organized in the back, and I don't know if you heard from the guy who was out here before but there's a hidden cache under the seat where I keep some emergency supplies, just so you're not surprised when you find it."

The guard nodded, but then motioned for the other soldiers to come forward, one of which grabbed Matthew by the arm roughly while another took his sword.

"Uh," Matthew did his best to sound confused even as he was swearing a blue streak in his head, "wait, what's this all about? What's going on?"

"I have orders to bring you directly to the general. In chains if you resist."

On the other side of the cart, three other soldier's approached Wester and demanded he turn over his weapons.

Saying nothing, the archer looked over at his employer, and Matthew gave him a nod, "Yeah, do what they say. Whatever this is about, I'll get it sorted out. Stay with the cart if you can, keep out of trouble 'till I get back."

The guard waited only long enough to see that Wester complied before hauling Matthew off to the General, refusing to answer any other questions along the way.

* * *

General Serdin was an extremely physically imposing man, standing nearly six and a half feet high and if he didn't weigh close to three hundred pounds then Matthew had lost his touch for sizing people up. This size, combined with his stern demeanor and the fact that he wore such heavy armor so easily made it very easy for Matthew to act every bit as cowed by the man as 'Norris' should be.

Not wanting to risk saying something he shouldn't, Matthew just half-bowed deferentially to the man and waited for him to say something.

For his part, the General seemed content to loom silently for a minute or two, perhaps to let the full impact of his presence settle in. If so, it was working.

"So." Matthew tensed up as the general finally spoke, his voice deep and almost deceptively casual, "I'll give you a chance to either talk your way out of this, or just dig the hole deeper. Why do you think you're here right now, mister Norris?"

Matthew openly sighed. Instantly he began spinning the best escape route he could think of, made with equal parts lies and truth, and hoping Wester was being smart and staying silent for whatever interrogation they were giving him, "Look...sir, I don't know exactly what you've heard about Wester, but I swear to St. Ellimine that he hasn't done anything wrong lately. He's trying to turn himself around, he really is."

Off to the side, a smaller man who had kept silent until now raised an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses, "Wester? That's the name of your guard, yes?"

Matthew made himself look confused, "Um, yes? Wait, you mean this isn't about...?"

The general smiled, looking like nothing so much as a pleased predator, "Why don't you finish telling us about this Wester, hmm?"

_He took the bait. _Matthew slumped and nodded, but relaxed just a bit inwardly as he started to explain his story, "Um...yessir. Wester's...well...um..."

The smaller main snapped at him, "Spit it out."

"Uh, right," Matthew winced and nodded again, "He's...a former member of the Black Fang, sir." Before they could react to that, he looked up and quickly started to defend his guard's character, "I swear he's out, though! He's hired on with me to kinda keep moving around after we managed to get rid of the first batch they sent after him to take him out. I guess they don't take kindly to deserters..."

The general and the man in glasses exchanged a look, and after a nod from the general the smaller man stood up and walked over to Matthew. Pacing back and forth, while keeping a close eye on Matthew's face and expression, the man began asking questions, "We? So you helped him fight off Fang assassins? I find that a bit hard to believe, and I'm even more skeptical that IF you are telling the truth about that part, that you would continue to travel with a man being hunted by a league of assassins. Care to elaborate on those points for me?"

_Shit._ Matthew nodded, and began expanding on his story even as he grew increasingly nervous about this man, "Well, I was a city guard for years before I lucked into some coin and tried my hand at being a peddler. It's what I've always wanted to do, you know? So I can handle myself in a fight well enough. We, uh..." he looked a bit embarrased, "didn't beat all three of them, though. There was a dark mage...uh, Wester seemed to know him, called him Lars by name, I think. And he had two roughnecks with him, big mountain boys with more muscle then brains. Well, Wester managed to kill the mage, and I'd hurt the other two a bit, then...well, I took a gamble and offered to buy them off after their leader got an arrow through the brainbox."

"And they took it?"

Matthew nodded again, quickly inventing the details of the story even as he told it, "After I'd offered it, Wester talked 'em around. He figured they'd get punished for letting the mage die even if they went back successful, and they believed him. So they took some coin and said they'd get out of Bern completely, with any luck the Fang would just believe we killed all three of 'em."

"So you not only helped him fight off assassins, but parted with your own money to help him out...then let him join you as a guard?" The man adjusted his glasses again, and gave Matthew a flat stare that said nothing so much as he wasn't buying it at all.

_This guy reminds me of Grant. I'm dead. SHIT. _"Wasn't just for him, I wasn't in great shape there either and they were attacking me too. And..." he then took a risk and gave the man an outright defiant look, "Yeah, I did. I've always believed that everyone deserves a chance to turn themselves around. Maybe not everyone who gets that chance will make good on it, but I'll be damned if I have the chance to give that to someone and not at least try."

"School your tone, merchant." The general himself spoke up again, reprimanding Matthew but not harshly.

Visibly shrinking back from even that, Matthew nodded hastily and muttered out, "Yessir, 'm sorry, sir."

Satisfied with that result, the general addressed the other man, "Your thoughts, Crispin?"

Crispin, as apparently the man in glasses was called, shrugged, "I think he's telling the truth, actually. Or at least most of it. If you want the rest, I can have it from him eventually."

Matthew kept silent during this exchange, but that phrase, in that matter-of-fact tone of voice, had him very worried. _Oh that does nooooooot sound promising..._

"Hmm. I'll think on that." Turning his attention back to Matthew, the general returned to his earlier question, "So, you say you don't know why you're here then?"

Matthew shook his head, "If it's not about Wester, then no sir I really don't. All I can think of is maybe there was something wrong with something I sold before? But I can't imagine a minor problem like that would go all the way to the general, sir."

"No, if it were only that you would have been dealt with by my staff." The general gave Matthew a long, piecing stare, looking for something in his expression or pose...but eventually relaxed his gaze and finished, "we have reason to believe that you are an enemy spy."

Putting on his best completely pole-axed expression, Matthew dumbly repeated, "An enemy spy?"

Somehow, that reaction got a low chuckle from General Serdin, "You're either a very bad, or incredibly good spy. I can't decide which just yet."

"Or...not a spy at all, sir."

Matthew looked up with surprise, since those words hadn't come from him, but rather Crispin. The same man who had just casually implied that he could get information from him without issue.

The general frowned at his aide, "Explain."

"Of course, sir." Crispin nodded, and picked up some papers he had set on a nearby table earlier, "I took the liberty of investigating just who that anonymous information about Norris being the prince's spy actually came from, as I'm sure you'll agree that informants who try to conceal their own identities are more then a bit suspicious. What I found was one master Torvin, another merchant who sells supplies to the soldiers. Supplies that are very similar to the ones sold by Norris here."

"Get to the point, Crispin."

Once again, the man adjusted his glasses then flipped to a different page, "Upon further investigation, I discovered multiple accounts of the merchant Torvin arguing with and even threatening Norris after the latter engaged in a risky business maneuver that forced the former to follow suit or risk losing too many sales, as well as the goodwill of the men."

Seeing his chance, Matthew piped up, "Wait, THAT guy? Yeah, he told me if I didn't knock it off he'd make sure I got put out of business. I just figured it was a bunch of bluster and blew him off..."

"He used that exact threat, did he?" Crispin asked, "Who else heard it?"

"I'm pretty sure Wester was in earshot, and Torvin had one of his guards there as well..." Matthew wracked his brain to remember what the man looked like, "um, didn't get a name but he was shorter then me, red hair, carries a bigger sword then I do..."

"I'll look into it." Crispin nodded, then turned back to the general, "you see sir, I have far more reason to suspect that this the plot of a merchant trying to remove a rival then that this man is a spy."

The general did not seem pleased by this conclusion, but his anger was focused solely on his assistant, "And you did not see fit to bring this to my attention BEFORE we bothered interrogating the man?"

Now it was Crispin's turn to shrink back from the general's imposing presence and quickly explain his actions, "My apologies sir, but I assumed it would be better to question Norris regardless, and without any bias for or against him. Also, it is my experience that everyone is guilty of something and we certainly did get some interesting information about his guardsman. Enough that I think it might be prudent to have Wester questioned about the recent movements of the Black Fang, which we could not have done at all if we didn't have Norris brought in."

The room was silent for a long moment, but eventually the general growled and turned to leave, "I'm going to prepare the troops to move. Have Norris and his guard detained while you question Torvin, then deal with the situation as appropriate for what you find. You will report to Commander Garve in my absence."

Crispin bowed, "Yes sir. Consider the matter settled."

After the general stormed out of the room, Matthew visibly relaxed, slumping down in his chair. Thankfully, that was quite appropriate for his persona as well. "The general's taking the field himself?" he whistled lowly, "I kinda feel sorry for the other guy."

"Indeed." Crispin sighed and turned to give orders to a soldier who had been standing guard, "Have a tent pitched and escort Norris and his guard Wester to it. Make sure they are unarmed and carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs, then make sure they stay within the tent until I send for them." Looking back to Matthew he added, "If you are in fact innocent, quiet compliance is the best tool you have at the moment."

Near simultaneously, Matthew and the solider responded, "Yes sir."

As the soldier escorted him out, Matthew did his best to suppress a very uneasy feeling. _That went better then it could have. But I'm not in the clear just yet..._

* * *

Matthew sighed and shifted in his bedroll in the tent. It had to be close to midnight at this point, and they hadn't brought Wester back yet. At this rate...he wasn't really expecting to come back at all. He hadn't had any time or privacy to coach the archer on what to talk about when questioned before they hauled him off. _He's either sold me out, or they've locked him up. Or worse. And I got him into this mess._

He was half tempted to just slip out now. The guard was light enough...or at least what he saw of it was, that Matthew was pretty sure he could escape alone in the dead of night without issue. But...

He flicked his eyes to the tent's entrance...and couldn't do it. It was stupid. It was going to get him killed. For all he knew, Wester had already sold him out, every bit of sense told him that he should bail while he still could.

But what if the archer hadn't betrayed him?

Professionally, that shouldn't matter. Matthew's loyalty was to his lord, and he couldn't do a thing for Ostia if he was caught here. But even knowing that, he couldn't abandon the guy. Just like he couldn't leave those kids on their own before.

_Leila..._ he consciously thought of the woman he had loved for the first time in a long while. _What would you do here? ...no, I don't even need to ask. I know what you'd do._

Suddenly he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of someone approaching the tent. Scrambling to his feet, he wanted to be ready for whoever it was, and whatever reason they were coming. With any luck, it was just Wester being brought back.

As the tent flap opened, Matthew squinted his eyes to better make out who it was in the darkness...then aborted the plan entirely and tried to bolt the second he saw the figure pointing a staff at him.

Even with his speed, he wasn't even able to dash past the man with the staff before it's magic touched him and he felt his consciousness instantly slip away.

* * *

"Back with us, are you?" A voice, calm, clinical and unmistakably belonging to General Serdin's aide Crispin greeted Matthew as his eyes fluttered open.

Waking up was good, since it meant he was still alive at least. But waking up with his hands and feet chained to a wall wasn't so great. He didn't respond to Crispin's comment, instead focusing on getting his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room.

Once he could see, he quickly took stock of his situation. Four armed men, plus Crispin himself...who was carrying what Matthew could recognize as a sleep staff. _...he's a mage. Heaven help me, that bastard is a mage._

He must have flinched or given some visible reaction to that thought, because Crispin chuckled and gestured with the staff in question, "Ah, you recognize this, do you? I normally don't waste such valuable magic, but after a conversation with your guardsman I decided it was best to err on the side of overkill rather then risk underestimating you."

Matthew felt his heart sink into his stomach. _He did sell me out. I guess I can't blame him, this asshole probably spun it to look like I did it to him first._

"No reaction? Nothing to say?" Crispin sighed, "I suppose I should have expected that I'd have to do this the hard way."

That got Matthew's attention, and not in a good way. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for the pain he knew would be happening shortly. _Here it comes. Sorry Lord Hector...I screwed up._

He felt someone place a device on one of his hands, fitting his fingers into different slot. Part of him wanted to open his eyes to see what it was, but he knew it was better not to even look. He felt each slot tighten, each finger getting slightly squeezed, held firm but not enough to actually hurt. Yet.

"Now," Crispin's voice began, "I know you're either a spy or an assassin. What I want to know is, in this order, who you're working for, what your objectives are, and what your connection to the Black Fang is. The sooner you give me this information, and the more detail you give it with, the less this is going to hurt. Fairly simple, yes?"

Matthew said nothing.

"So you work for no one and have no objectives?" Crispin sounded both unsurprised and quite bored, "Hmmm, no I'm afraid I don't believe that. One and four, three twists."

Someone adjusted the device on his hand, and Matthew felt the pressure on his thumb and ring fingers intensify. Now it hurt, but not so much he couldn't bear it. Doing his best to keep his breathing steady and simply zone out the pain, he wondered just how long he could last...and what other surprises were in store for him if this finger crusher didn't work.

The room was quiet for a few long moments before Crispin spoke again, "Still silent, regular breathing, you didn't even flinch at the tightening. You've been trained in basic interrogation resistance. Which makes it more likely that you're a spy instead of an assassin. However, there's only so much I can infer here so I'm afraid I have to repeat my earlier questions. Who do you work for, what are your objectives, and what connection do you have to the Black Fang?"

Still Matthew kept silent.

Again, Crispin ordered specific slots tightened and repeated his questions.

For...Matthew couldn't even guess how long, surely not nearly as long as it felt, they went back and forth like this. The pain grew worse, made harder to bear by each finger being squeezed a different amount so it felt like a medley of very specific individual instances of pain instead of just one large block. Once he could no longer stop himself from crying out, he stopped trying to stay silent and started lying. He claimed to work for Eturia, for the King of Bern, for some warlord on the Western Isles, even for Lord Uther at one point so that once he broke down completely maybe, just maybe, his connection to Ostia would have been discounted amid all the lies he had spilled.

Crispin sighed again, "I'm impressed, really. This is getting us nowhere. You're clearly a professional and I respect that. Which means you'll understand why I have to up the ante until I get the truth out of you."

Matthew couldn't respond. All he could do at this point was sob near uncontrollably, though he had no tears left and his voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

He could still hear though, and years of training made him instinctively pay attention when he heard a door open and a new voice speak.

"Sir? The messenger is getting impatient."

Crispin responded with a bit of irritation, "Can we afford for him to wait until tomorrow? I may have more information to send then."

"I don't think so, sir. It's risky for him to stay long, and he says Dame Vaida wants your report as of yesterday."

_Wait..._ that name cut through the haze in Matthew's mind. _Vaida? He's working for Vaida? Then...that means HE's the Prince's spy!_ "Vaida..." he managed to force himself to croak out as he opened his eyes.

Crispin turned back to Matthew, "...you have something to say?"

"You work...for Vaida?"

Crispin didn't answer, but turned back to the soldier he was speaking with muttering, "I'll have the report ready in a few minutes."

"Grant!" Matthew latched onto the last desperate idea he had and used all of what was left of his strength to make sure he was heard, "If...you work for her...you know Grant. I'll talk to Grant."

The moment Matthew said that name, Crispin froze. Once more he turned to look at the man he had chained to the wall and asked in a voice that was completely flat and devoid of any inflections, "How do you know that name?"

"I'll talk to Grant. Or Vaida. Not you."

Crispin's eyes hardened, showing anger, showing some real emotion for the first time during all of this, and Matthew knew he had hit on something.

The soldier who came on behalf of the messenger broke the silence, "Sir?"

With a heavy sigh, Crispin adjusted his glasses and nodded, "I'll have the report ready soon. Tell the messenger he'll have two letters, one for Dame Vaida and the other for master Grant. And someone get him down from there and put in a secure cell."

As the soldiers moved to follow Crispin's orders, Matthew let himself stop struggling to stay awake. When his chains were released, he slumped down to the ground and passed out.

* * *

_Author's Footnote: If the last bit of the chapter feels like a letdown, you're not the only one. I'll admit that I'm not happy about it and I may end up later editing it. But I definately feel like I should post what I have, even if I'm not happy with it. So hopefully it's enjoyable enough and if not, well, I may be coming back to touch it up eventually. _


	14. Guy: Sainted Sword

Guy - Sainted Sword

A gentle breeze blew across the field, carrying with it the scent of fresh grass and running water. It wasn't the grass of the plains, but the smell was nostalgic all the same, and Guy breathed it in deeply. Before long he would have to return to the camp, where things were not so peaceful, and not nearly so clean.

_When the first Sacaen made the first Sword, he shaped it from the metals taken from Mother Earth and the fire granted by Father Sky._ Once more he repeated the story of the origin of the blade in his mind as he prepared to test himself again. _Three days and three nights he toiled, without food, without drink and without rest._

Guy took three more of the leaves he had gathered that morning into his hand, and turned his back to the wind. _When he was finished, he took the thing of metal and fire he had made, and held it towards the sun._ With his eyes closed, he held the leaves out before him, letting the wind brush across his hand and he felt how the leaves moved with it. _"Father Sky!" he called, "What is this thing that I have made?"_

_The wind blew fiercely while the sun shown hot, and he knew he had his answer. It was Death. It was Life. It was Order and Chaos at once. It was Purpose._ The leaves rustled in his hand, and Guy almost smiled at how much they wished to be free to blow on the wind. With his left hand, he took up his blade and held it by the sheath, ready to be drawn. _It was all these things and more. It was a divine gift wrought by man's own hand. It was the doom and salvation of his people._

He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and let go of the leaves. The breeze snatched them up in an instant, carrying them off across the field. _The Sword is death. In the hands of a Master, there is nothing it cannot slay. Men, beasts, plants, stone, even the very wind. The least of Swords can kill the greatest of things, if only the wielder has the skill._

Now freed, Guy's right hand went to the hilt of his blade, but he did not draw just yet. His eyes tracked the movements of the leaves, unpredictable and chaotic on the wind. He gave chase. _The Sword is Life. It creates order where there was chaos. It creates chaos where there was order. It fosters strength where there was weakness, and courage where there was fear. In the hands of a Master, one sword could create peace for a hundred people._

The wind was fast, but Guy was faster. Quickly he came upon the leaves, dancing and spinning in the wind. He chose his moment...and drew his sword. _The Sword is Purpose. In and of itself, it was a reason to exist. To test oneself against the blade, to struggle with every breath to become greater then that which he held, to attain a state of perfect harmony with everything the Sword could represent. To become a Master. This was the goal, battle was only the means. _

Where there were three leaves, there were now five. One sliced perfectly in half, another cut but roughly. And the last was untouched. Guy smiled as he sheathed his sword and bid the leaves a silent farewell on their journey to wherever the wind would take them. Two leaves was the same as he managed before, but this time one was a perfect cut. He still wasn't there, but he was getting better. Maybe next time he would at least touch all three.

* * *

Aerie watched as the nomad had another go at the leaves. He'd been doing that every few days, whenever there was a good breeze and he had the time. She didn't quite understand what the point of slashing at leaves was, but he seemed pretty intent on it so she could only assume it was a Sacaen thing.

Before he could get started on another handful, or start some other kind of bizarre training, she whistled to get his attention, "Guy! It's almost our shift, let's get moving."

The swordsman didn't react for a moment, but she didn't bother yelling again. He heard her, he was just taking his time. Probably getting a few more breaths of fresh air before heading back to the camp, which was something she most certainly did understand. _If I never have to deal with another horse in my life..._

Guy's expression when he did make his way over told Aerie that they were thinking the same thing there. She half smiled and shrugged, feeling a bit better knowing she wasn't the only one who really didn't want to go back there, and offered the mercenary's mantra, "It's coin."

He didn't seem entirely impressed with that, but he fell in beside her as they started the walk back anyway, "How did we get stuck with this assignment again?"

"You'd have to ask Branta," she replied...then couldn't resist having a bit of fun, "Though it's probably your fault."

"My fault?" Guy blinked and gave her one of those horribly confused looks she found so amusing, "What?"

"Well," Aerie smiled, "everyone knows how you nomads are with horses. We probably only got this assignment since you're in the company now."

The confused look turned to a flat stare, "Please tell me that's one of your jokes. If that's actually true, I'm going to have to stab somebody."

"If it is true, I'll help you." Aerie offered, then laughed, "I need to carry a mirror around just to show you the looks on your face sometimes."

"Tch." Guy rolled his eyes at her and just went off ahead without saying anything else.

She felt a bit bad once he left. She certainly didn't mean to actually make him mad, just tease him a bit, since frankly Guy was the closest thing she'd managed to get to a friend in a long time. Branta was her boss, Piet was a priest, the twins...she tried to be friendly to the two of them, but they were bound and determined to treat Aerie like their rival instead of an ally, so she'd just given up by now. And Roan had always scared her a bit, though she'd never admit it in public.

With a sigh, Aerie tried to push those thoughts out of her head and follow along back to the camp. Thinking about the big berserker always depressed her a bit. Better to think about the job. Even if the job was boring, tedious and didn't even pay well.

_And smelly. Can't forget smelly. _

* * *

Camp, such as it was, consisted of far more then just the Badgers for this job, so Guy had steeled himself against both the noise and the smell before he got there. It helped...somewhat.

The job right now was one he didn't think he would mind when they took it. Another town had declared for the Prince, and the Badgers, along with another company called the Quickblades, had been assigned to protect it for the time being. The problem was that the town was insistent on holding their annual Horse Fair, heedless of the fact that a war was going on. Both Branta and the Quickblade captain had made it very clear to the two companies that this made the town a target.

Not that Guy needed to be told that. _A unit of cavalry at the right time can make all the difference in a battle. And you can't field cavalry without horses._The captains' decision to have the companies camp in the fairground to protect the horses was a sound one. And Guy wouldn't even have minded it if these were Sacaen horses and horse tenders...since his people would have had more sense then to hold a horse fair when they were so shorthanded that they couldn't keep all the pens clean. Thankfully they were allowed to draw a line when the mayor's cronies tried to get the mercenaries to help with THAT chore.

He wrinkled his nose again as he passed a particularly nasty section with one of the overworked stable hands, a boy who couldn't have been older then thirteen at the most, just beginning the long task of mucking it out. Just looking at the boy, Guy had to stop his hand from going to the hilt of his sword. He'd seen the merchants, nobles and others who owned these horses walking around and doing business. They were all nice and clean, of course. They never took a shovel and pitched in with the work. _And these people are for the prince. Is this what Grant is fighting for? Is this what I'm fighting for?_

Guy forced himself to move on before he lost his temper and caused a scene. He wished Kent or Lyn were here, since he just knew either one of them would have had these 'privileged' jerks ankle deep in the muck and doing their own dirty work...at swordpoint if necessary. _Which they would have the rank to do. Not me_.

Rank, or at least Lycian and Berneese rank, was one of those things he thought he had finally gotten his head around. Like so many other things, it was different in Sacae. Any member of a clan could speak in disagreement with a chief, if they thought they were right and could back it up. So long as they did so politely of course, but in his experience the chiefs rarely gave any reason for rudeness. But here, it could be practically suicide for a commoner, or even worse a foreigner, to so much a stand up to a noble who was abusing their station. It really made him respect lords Eliwood and Hector a bit more, since he never would have even guessed the extents to which they could have used their positions if they'd wanted.

"Wool-gathering?"

Guy looked over at the voice to see Piet, then shrugged in response to the company's priest. "Just thinking. So it's my shift now, right? Which area?"

The priest half smiled, but got down to business as Guy effectively requested, "South road, between here and the Old Wood. Branta's orders are that you don't go in the wood, even if you suspect something, without pulling back to let someone know you're going to investigate first."

"Right." Guy nodded and turned to go, "Aerie shouldn't be too far behind me."

* * *

Piet let out a quiet sigh as the young swordsman left for his assignment. Sometimes he wondered whether keeping him on was the right idea. Not that he disliked the boy, quite the opposite actually. He didn't blame him at all for Roan's death, the berserker's own burden of hatred was responsible for that. But perhaps the others still did? Or perhaps Guy himself couldn't forget that he killed the friend of the company's captain, even if it was in self defense? Whatever his reasons, he hadn't seemed to open up in the slightest to the rest of them at all, despite having spent over a month in the company now.

The approach of Aerie caught the bishop's attention, and he gave the young woman a friendly smile, "Ah, here you are."

The heroine nodded, "Sorry if I'm a bit late. Where am I today? South road again?"

"No, Guy's covering that today. You're on the western watch, along with Cauld from the Quickblades."

She didn't look particularly pleased at that, and he couldn't blame her. The boy was a showboat and a womanizer, but they couldn't exactly control who the other company placed where. Still, Aerie nodded her understanding and left for her post without complaint.

Piet felt a bit bad for her as well. She had been with the company quite a bit longer then Guy had. and while she was generally more friendly then the young Sacaen, Piet had noticed that she hadn't quite gotten into the feeling of camaraderie that made good companies work so well. A problem, he had to admit, that was partly the fault of everyone. The twins had their own dynamic that must be quite hard to fit into, while Piet and Branta were quite a bit older then her.

Of course thinking of their leader didn't improve the priest's mood much at all. Branta was their captain and his friend, but the man had been drawing further inside himself as time went by...and as more of his old comrades fell. Now he was the last member of the original Badgers, even Piet himself hadn't been part of the founding crew. All that death would take it's toll on even the strongest of men.

_Our captain is losing his spirit, Teal and Noah are off in their own little world half the time, Aerie is still struggling to find a place, and our newest recruit goes out of his way to keep everyone at a distance. And what is it that I'm doing beyond worry? What kind of priest can't manage to keep more then their bodies healthy? Of course,_ he sadly gave a thought to the situation they were in, _the company isn't doing any worse then the whole country right now. Civil wars are the worst, countrymen should never fight like this._

"E-excuse me? Um, father?"

Piet broke out of his spiral of worry to see one of the working lads trying to get his attention. Giving the boy what he hoped was a comforting smile, he took his staff and stood up, "Another injury? Don't worry child, I'll do what I can. Tell me what happened and lead the way."

* * *

The south road that ran between the town and the old wood had been fairly quiet and devoid of any real traffic the entire time they'd been here, a fact for which Guy was quite thankful whenever he got a shift there. Of course, the old wood itself made a great place to hide, and since the road was ill traveled it also made an ideal direction for an attack to come from, so he didn't take the quiet as an excuse to slack off.

Not that Guy ever did much slacking off. When he wasn't on duty, he was either working on camp chores, sleeping or training. He had done alot of that latter over the past month, far more then usual even for him, but he was pleased to say it was paying off. He felt in better shape, quicker, sharper, more aware of his surroundings. He liked to think he wasn't the same idiot who almost killed himself eating horseberries back in Lycia.

_Having nobody but yourself to rely on will do that_, he mused as he reached the edge of the wood. Putting that enhanced awareness he felt he had to good use, the swordsman carefully scanned through the trees without quite stepping into them. Every spot that looked like a likely place for an enemy soldier to hide, or to spring an ambush from got looked over from a distance until he was satisfied there wasn't anything.

Once he was sure it was clear, he started the trip back. Sheer paranoia causing him to walk backwards back up the road until he had put a few more yards between himself and the wood before turning his back on it. He'd learned quite a bit during the war against Nergal, but he hadn't realized just how much hadn't quite sunk in until he didn't have Grant, Rath or Matthew around to do his thinking for him. Never expect an enemy to fight fair, especially when they start losing. Always expect a surprise attack, even if you think the area is clear. Find two escape routes from any situation, chances are the first one you see is already blocked. And always keep your distance from the people you fight with.

They were a cynic's rules to be sure, especially the last. But that was the best way he could think of to be, to give him the space and the lack of distractions needed to focus on his mastery of the sword.

Not that his fellows in the company were making it easy on him. Aside from the captain, anyway. Branta was easy to stay more then an arms length from, since the man didn't really bother hiding the fact that he still hated Guy for killing his friend. Which Guy honestly couldn't be too surprised about. What was surprising was that he found himself not really caring about the resentment after awhile. Branta still treated him like a professional, and that was enough.

The others, though...he let out a half irritated sigh at what seemed like a concerted effort to get close to him on their behalf. Bishop Piet he expected it of at least. He was a priest, and one of the good hearted ones, like a much older Lucius. Of course he was concerned about any member of the company, caring is what men like him did. And he didn't even seem to mind that Guy wasn't a worshipper of St. Elimine, or at least he hadn't said anything about it if he did.

And then there were the girls. With his greater self control, Guy really hoped he had stopped himself from blushing as he remembered the twins flirting with him a few days ago. Shamelessly. And both at once. He...was fairly certain they were just messing with him. He hoped they were at least. They did seem the sort to enjoy teasing people, but he would be the first to admit he knew next to nothing about women. What he could tell at least was that even if it was just teasing, there wasn't any malice in it, so he could find it pretty funny after the fact. Well after. And they were competitive, which was a trait he always had a tendency to rise to. It was getting harder to keep himself apart every time they had any real downtime together.

But as difficult as that was becoming, Aerie was the worst. It was like the woman was actively trying to be his friend, which when combined with the fact that she had been nothing but very blunt and honest since they met made it quite hard not to like her. He hadn't forgotten how she seemed ready to turn her blade on her own captain after she discovered he'd been deceiving her, even if only through omission. And if the twins tried sparking Guy's competitive nature, Aerie did it effortlessly. She was almost his equal, and frankly better then him against certain foes. Every time they worked together he wanted to start counting wins...and he didn't dare spar with her.

Sparring was something he'd avoided as a rule, lately. It only reminded him of Matthew.

Reaching the camp's end of the south road, Guy nodded at the boy standing watch there and took a moment to look around before heading back. There was nothing of note, of course. But he still had to make sure nothing had snuck past him, that was his job after all.

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, the Sacaen resumed his patrol. He didn't want to dwell on the others. Even thinking about them was getting closer then he wanted. He wanted to focus on his training, and on the task at hand. _A Master must always be Aware. Nothing moves around him that a Master does not see. No sound that he does not hear. No presence that he does not feel._ Repeating the training mantras in his mind, he set aside all thoughts but complete immersion in the world around him.

As he reached the wood again, such focus is surely what let him spy a small bit of red where there should only be green and brown. Narrowing his attention on that spot, Guy tried not to betray that he saw it. It was only a small bit of color, but it could be an enemy. A bit of cloak or uniform ill disguised, or a few drops of blood from a hastily bandaged wound. He made a show of looking around as he did before...then retreated from the wood, walking backwards.

When he reached the point where he could see the boy standing watch again, Guy picked up his pace very slightly. "I saw something in the woods," Guy flat stated the moment he got close enough, "Go tell Father Piet that I'm going in to look. You know where he is?"

The boy nodded, and hastily vanished back into the camp.

Now the swordsman turned back towards the woods and quickly jogged down the road. He'd reported in, they knew something was amiss. Now it didn't matter if they figured out that he saw them. He liked to think that was another mark of how much he'd matured. Before, he would have gone in to investigate before reporting, since he'd want something real before raising an alarm, not just suspicions.

_Still not mature enough to wait for backup though_, the thought came and made him smile as he drew his sword and entered the wood. He made no attempt to hide or disguise his approach and intent at all. If there was someone there, he wanted them to see him. He wanted them to get scared, to cut and run, or just get nervous and make a sound to betray their position.

But as he drew closer to where he saw the red, it was clear there wasn't anyone in the wood but himself. It was just a scrap of cloth...a scrap of dark red cloth, the exact color worn by the king's mages. And a fair amount of trampled vegetation to boot.

_Someone was here scouting us out._ Guy grinned as he put the evidence together to come to a conclusion. It was time to go get the others.

* * *

Branta grunted and cracked his knuckles yet again, an old nervous habit he'd never been able to get rid of. "Progress?" he asked, though he honestly wasn't expecting a different answer then last time.

Aerie shook her head, "Still looking. I've got a few more cloth scraps, someone in the group wasn't very wood wise, leaving bits all over."

"All from the same cloth?" Guy wondered, without looking back at the others. While Aerie tracked, his job was to keep lookout.

"Yeah, I think so." Aerie speculated a bit as she continued her search, "Smart money says dumb brass insisted on putting a mage in the scouting team, and there was only so much that the real scouts could clean up after him."

"The king's officers aren't that stupid," Branta shook his head, "Not unless they're so desperate they're promoting from the green. I'm betting the mage is in charge and insisted on going along himself."

"Really?" Guy wasn't really convinced by that logic, "You're saying an officer wouldn't be that dumb but a mage would? Most mages I've met were really smart."

"Smart, sure. Also arrogant enough not to consider skills beyond magic mattering."

That...didn't quite sound right to Guy either, but for all he knew the mages he'd fought with before were just as unique as the nobles. So he shrugged and didn't bother arguing further.

Eventually Aerie stood up from where she had been moving low across the ground, "Got it. Tracks going back this way, four or five people, means probably twice that at their camp. At least."

Piet sighed, "That outnumbers us. Should we ask for a couple of the Quickblades to come with us then?"

"No." Branta's response was firm, "Can't risk leaving the fair unprotected. We can handle this on our own. Aerie, lead the way. Badgers, get a move on."

* * *

The Badgers never seemed to change up their approach tactics, but Guy supposed they didn't really need to. As Aerie tracked the enemies back to their camp, Guy was right with her on point to either defend against an ambush, or launch a surprise attack depending on who saw who first. Branta followed a good ten yards behind, ready to provide supporting fire or charge in as needed, while Piet was only a bit behind him and the twins in the back. Guy didn't think Grant would have like it too much, it left them too open to an attack from behind, but it worked well for Branta so they went with it.

Just ahead of him, Aerie suddenly dropped to the ground, and by pure instinctive reaction Guy followed suit instantly. Crouched as low as he could get without actively lying down, he scanned around looking to find whatever she had spotted. It didn't take him long to find. A man on horseback was ahead in the distance...and he was wearing red.

As stealthily as he could, Guy slid back to Branta's position. Their captain had also hit the ground on seeing his advance pair dropping, so Guy moved right beside him and reported in a low whisper, "One rider, looks like King's army. Bring him down or wait for him to pass?"

The old warrior thought a moment, then gave his orders, "Let him pass...I'll have the girls keep an eye out for him coming back once we hit the camp."

Guy nodded and moved back up to relay the order to Aerie. And then they waited. It felt like forever, but those moments between bursts of action always did. But eventually the rider moved along, apparently not noticing the mercenaries at all.

The advance continued like that, slipping past a second sentry...and eventually catching sight of a single large tent in the king's colors, giving away the position of the camp.

And that is when everything broke into chaos.

Surprise attacks, shock tactics that broke formations apart and caused even disciplined soldiers to panic, these were the preferred weapons of Branta's Badgers. The twins and Branta fired a hail of arrows in a high arc to herald their entrance. It made the enemy look up, look for the archers...so some of them missed the two melee specialists dashing in as fast as they could while keeping low. That's all Guy and Aerie needed, for some of the enemy to overlook them. That way some reacted in time while others didn't it made holes in the line.

Holes that gave someone fast enough a brief window to get behind the defensive line and attack the mages and commanders. Someone like Guy.

* * *

Aerie tried her best to keep her focus on the fight, but sometimes it was hard not to just stare at her fellow front-liner going to work. By the time she was starting to deal with her first opponent, Guy had already cut down two, and was moving towards the tent...though at times she swore she could barely see him move. One moment he was in one place, the next he was ten feet ahead and attacking a new foe.

_No time for that now_. Getting her head back in the game, the heroine smashed her large shield right into the form of an approaching swordsman, rattling him long enough to finish the job with her own blade.

In the moment between that enemy falling and engaging the next, Aerie caught a glimpse of a man in a mage's uniform come rushing out of the tent...not even ten feet from where Guy had moved to. _Well, he's dead._

Indeed, only seconds later, as she was locked in battle with an unhorsed paladin, she heard what sounded like the beginning of a chanted spell turning into a gruesome gurgle. The paladin, against all sense, took a moment to look back...and that was all the time Aerie needed to push in past his spear's reach and take the upper hand.

By this point Branta had joined the melee as well, and the twins were focusing their efforts on picking off the outriders as they came in to reinforce the camp. The Badgers may have been a small force, but they were all good at their job and their teamwork was solid. The surprise attack had worked, Guy had taken out his targets, and now lacking their command and magical support, the enemy was breaking.

Aerie grinned as she charged full on into an enemy archer, slamming into him with her shield. _From here, it's just cleanup..._

* * *

"Get anything useful out of him?" Aerie asked their captain as they made their way back to camp after the battle. As was usual for them, the Badgers managed to get their hands on a survivor and Branta shook some information out of him while the others looted and cleaned up.

Branta snorted, "Not much. They were supposed to seize the fair long enough to take all the horses, then clear out. Not enough to hold the town, so they weren't even going to try. So basically what any idiot could have figured out by looking at them."

Piet sighed, "Not expecting any reinforcements I hope? With any luck the ones that got away will warn the king's men away from here now."

Guy was quiet as the others spoke. He took point on the way back and let the conversation behind him turn into background noise as he tried to clear his mind...while keeping an eye out for any surprises, of course.

Though even as he tried to largely tune it out, he still caught pieces of it that intruded into his thoughts. _The ones that got away..._the thought almost made him smile. That was perhaps the biggest reason he knew he made the right choice to stay on with this company rather then looking for another one. The situation didn't matter, if an enemy was trying to escape, Branta would let them. So what if they went back for reinforcements, or to report they had been attacked. The Badgers didn't kill anyone who decided to stop fighting. Morality of any kind was hard to find in a war without a clear villain like Nergal...and Guy was glad for it where he could find it. Something that let him know he was still one of the good guys.

It was a good thought, and one he kept in mind during the long walk back.

By the time they made it back to the south road leading up to the town Guy was in a fairly good mood. Which came crashing to a halt as he could hear some kind of commotion coming from the camp. Ignoring his instincts to dash ahead, he fell back to the others to report, quickly calling for their leader's attention, "Captain!"

Branta broke off from the conversation he was having with the bishop, "Something wrong?"

Guy nodded, "Yeah, I hear noise from the camp. More then usual, sounds like something's going on."

Looking up, Branta narrowed his eyes at the road and put his finger on the other thing that was out of place, "Nobody patrolling the road. Quickblades should have someone out here with us gone...alright Badgers, weapons out. Move in like we're expecting trouble."

As one, the company responded, falling into the usual position as they made their way up to the camp. But as they approached, they did not see any enemies, nor any signs of a larger battle. Even as the sounds of fighting became more clear, they saw no bodies, no weapons on the ground, no indication that a fight had taken place outside of the fairground at all.

Not liking what that suggested at all, the Badgers picked up their pace. Nobody tried to stop them as they barged into their camp, the only people they saw at all were cowering civilians...until they reached the center.

The sight there made Guy freeze in his tracks.

One man with long dark hair in a blue swordsman's garb stood, untouched, with four of the Quickblades fallen around him. Four of the others were still alive, but wounded...far too wounded to continue fighting. Only their newest recruit, a young archer who was as yet untested in real battle, was left unharmed.

The boy had an arrow drawn on the swordsman, but wasn't firing. A quick glance told Guy why. The intruder was standing in front of three stable hands who had been bound and tied to a post. Hostages...and a bloody backdrop for the archer's arrows if he should miss.

The swordsman seemed completely unconcerned about the archer as he noticed the Badgers arrival...though there was only one of them he was looking at.

"Guy of the Kutolah." Karel smiled...the same vicious smile he had when he attacked Guy before, "You've made me come a very long way to finish our fight. And I see your swords is already drawn. Good."

Behind him, Guy could hear Branta saying something...and could see Aerie looking at him from the corner of his eye. But it was like the words and the glance were coming from a distant place. He struggled to control his breathing as the fear began to grip him. Ha hadn't gotten away, Karel had tracked him even here. He was going to die.

He took a step back. He was faster then Karel...he knew that. All he had to do was turn and run. He would make the woods long before Karel could...and Guy could lose him in there without problem. He could get away.

Karel's smile quirked a bit almost as if he was reading Guy's mind, "Thinking to flee?" The demon's sword slowly moved back to rest near one of the captives he had tied up. "I will not let such a strong opponent escape me again. I know your kind. You cannot just leave them here."

Guy froze, opposed instincts warring inside of him. Those hostages had done nothing wrong. They were only in this situation because of him. But...he felt more fear facing Karel then he had against the dragon. Could he fight? If he did...did he have any hope of living?

Eyes locked on the sword demon...Guy saw something moving behind Karel and to the right. Something large...with an axe. As he realized what was about to happen, Guy tried to shout a warning but it caught in his throat.

The axe came down, with enough force to split a man in two. Right where Karel had been standing less then a second previous. Taking his attention from Guy, the sword demon turned to face the Badger's captain who had managed to sneak up behind him. "I am not here for you. Begone if you wish to live."

Branta spat at the smaller man, as he pulled his axe from the ground and readied for another swing, "I don't know what your problem with Guy is, but I'm protecting these people. You come in here and start killing and making threats, you've got the Badgers to deal with. All of us."

Karel's only response was the flash of his blade. Branta staggered backwards, his gut sliced wide open, stunned by the pain and the speed of his opponent. A half step in, a second swing, and the demon brought his sword down for a vertical cut down the old warror's chest.

Piet cried out as Branta fell, sprinting towards his captain with a healing staff in hand, heedless of the danger he may have been in.

Guy saw Karel glance at the bishop...and did the only thing he could do. Stepped forward.

That was all it took. The sword demon's attention was fully fixed on his target, and Piet made it to Branta's side. Stepping forward as well, the smile left Karel's face as he focused, "You've found your courage."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Guy ignored Karel's barb, and gestured to the west. "I'll fight you. But not here, too many people. Someone could get hurt. There's a field...you probably saw it coming in. I'll meet you there."

Karel made no response for a long moment...then sheathed his sword and left for the field.

No sooner was he out of sight then Aerie rushed towards Guy, "What's going on? Who is that?"

Guy didn't meet her eyes. "His name's Karel...they call him the sword demon. He hunts down and kills the strongest opponents. And now he's after me."

"And you have to fight him or he'll kill the people here?"

No longer staring death in the face, Guy realized how wrong the scene before him had been...and shook his head, "He was bluffing...he doesn't kill noncombatants."

Aerie blinked at him, "...then why are you going to fight him? If he's really that good then he'll kill you. Don't fight a stupid battle, Guy."

"The rest of you aren't noncombatants." Guy's answer was simple...and punctuated by Branta lying on the ground along with nearly half the Quickblades, Piet doing everything he could to stop them from dying.

The point got across, but she wasn't ready to give up just yet, "Then all four of us should go. The twins can keep him pinned with arrow fire and we can flank him."

"That...might give me the opening to kill, yeah. But the three of you would die first." It was a good tactic, but Guy had seen things like that tried on Karel before. They didn't work. It didn't matter how large the group attacking him was, if you weren't skilled enough to hit him, then you may as well not be there. And Guy wasn't even sure if HE had the skill for it...so he knew the others didn't. "If...he wins. Don't go after him. He's only here for me."

Aerie's voice hardened, "You expect us to just let someone come in here, kill one of us, and let him walk?"

Guy stared at her for a moment, unable to believe what he just heard...before, despite the gravity of the situation, having to laugh.

She was not quite so amused, "What are you laughing about?"

"You've done it before."

Aerie blinked at him for a second before turning red in embarrassment. And before she could try to raise any more protests, turned his back on her, and the others, and left for the western field.

* * *

_If I couldn't even beat Matthew, what chance do I have against Karel?_Guy walked slowly, taking the time to mentally prepare himself for the fight. He had to fight. The Quickblades...maybe even Branta, were dead or dying because Karel came for him. Because he ran away before.

_I had to. I didn't stand a chance then._ He almost cringed at the memory. _Then? Do I even have one now?_

He shook off that thought. Now that he had decided to fight...he couldn't let Karel intimidate him. If he went in expecting to die, then death was the only outcome.

_So how do I beat him then? He's not invincible...he wasn't even the best in the army. But who could beat him?_ Guy thought along that line, wondering if he could pick up some tactic from an ally who could stand against the sword demon. _Jaffar could...but I can't fight like him. Maybe Lord Hector...but I don't have that kind of power. _He sighed, thinking of someone else who might be able to manage it, _Matthew...could. But not with any methods I could use. Or would, even against Karel. _

_This isn't getting me anywhere._ Putting thoughts of his old allies aside as he approached the field, Guy ran his thumb along the hilt of his blade and instantly felt the calmness he touched on in his training wash over him. _I'll never win like someone else could. I can only fight him like myself. _

With a new determination, Guy let his hand rest easily on the hilt as he silently repeated the mantra of Vita-Katti, _When the first Sacean made the first sword..._

* * *

It was like a scene from a minstrel's tale. Two swordsman in an empty field, face to face, blades yet undrawn. _Too bad this isn't just a story,_ Guy thought with a bit of dark humor, _at least there's no question who the good guy is here._

The man before him was someone he once respected, and more recently feared. Guy would be lying if he pretended he wasn't still afraid. But he had made the decision to fight, so now fear was pointless. He had to fight. If not for his own sake, then for that of others. The Badgers, the Quickblades...whoever else Karel might hunt down and kill in the future for no other reason then hearing of their skill.

Guy drew his blade first. "In the hands of a Master, one sword can create peace for a hundred people."

Karel raised an eyebrow, and drew his own weapon, "Vita-Katti. So...are you a master, Guy of the Kutolah?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Guy answered honestly, "But I do know that you aren't."

The sword demon narrowed his eyes, and began to slowly circle to the left, not responding to his opponent's assertion.

"Your sword does not protect." Guy continued, moving with Karel, keeping the older swordsman at his front, "it can't create. It has no purpose beyond killing. You fight with only half of a sword...so you aren't invincible."

"Are you talking to me, or yourself?" Karel seemed unimpressed by the younger man's words, "you are not the first who walked the path to lecture me...and you will not be the last."

Guy had nothing else to say, the time for words was past...if there even was a time for them with this opponent. Not daring to approach and let Karel punish any misstep he might make, Guy waited, blade at the ready, for his enemy to make the first move.

The demon didn't wait long. Continuing to circle a moment or two longer, Karel suddenly changed his momentum and came sweeping in, closing the distance in the blink of an eye, bringing his sword across in a deadly slash aimed right for Guy's throat.

*CLANG*

The sound of steel on steel rang through the air as Guy parried the strike with the flat of his blade, then instantly surged into a counterattack, bringing his down in a powerful diagonal slice...but managing only to cut a bit out of Karel's shirt, the demon had moved away too quickly for any blood to have been drawn.

As Karel backed away, creating space before he attempted another strike, Guy fell back into his defensive stance. _I've already fought today...more then he has, anyway. I need to make him do the work, conserve energy until he gets tired._

Again the sword demon approached, slowly this time, though Guy knew once he began to attack his blade would move like lightning. Closer he came...and Guy realized that in two more steps Karel would be close enough to strike...or be struck.

Karel took another step. Guy's hands tightened on the hilt of his sword.

Karel took one more step, sword at the ready...then quickly pulled back away from the younger man as if anticipating an attack.

Guy's sword had not yet moved.

_Not going to fall for that one_, the thought ran through Guy's mind as he kept his mind and his stance focused on defense. If he had taken that bait...Karel would have sliced him wide open with his follow up.

"So cautious." Karel's observation sounded amused as he again stepped backwards, "I had known you to be more aggressive."

"I've gotten smarter since then."

The malicious smile returned to the demon's face, "Yes, you are more skilled. That is why I cannot resist the urge to take your life!" Even before he had finished his sentence, Karel had moved back in, this time with the speed he was famed for, getting as close as he could before striking with full force to overwhelm Guy's defense.

*CLANG*

Steel on steel filled the air again, as Guy somehow managed to predict the angle of attack and interpose his blade at the last second. Without hesitation he countered with an attack he prayed his opponent wouldn't see coming, stomping down on Karel's foot hard before pushing his blade back with a power slash of his own.

The stomp connected, and for just a moment Guy saw a flash of shock in Karel's eyes, and dared to hope he might win this. But with strength greater then his slender frame should have, the demon jerked his foot out from under Guy's in time to retreat from the coming blade. But even as Karel leapt back to create distance, Guy noticed his shirt was cut again...and this time there was just a touch of blood on Guy's blade. It wasn't a clean hit, but he still scored something.

That something, that small cut, was all it took to turn Guy's faint hope into a new level of raw determination. It proved what he had been telling himself, the dreaded Sword Demon was not invincible. He could be surprised. He could be cut. He did bleed.

After stopping his retreat, Karel ran his free hand along that very cut. "You...cut me," he spoke, his voice sounding distant and distracted even as his words were clear, "and you are still untouched." Karel sheathed the Wo Dao, but made no move to back away further "I am glad you escaped me that day. That you would improve...that you were even capable of improving this much, I never could have expected. It seems I must face you as an equal. If I do not...I will be the one to die."

_An...equal?_ The words hit the young nomad like a shock of cold water, carrying with them a strange mixture of pride and dread. To be considered of equal skill by the infamous Sword Demon was a strange sort of honor...but it also meant that Karel had been holding back.

As Karel began to lean backwards, falling into a very distinctive stance, Guy's feeling of dread intensified. He recognized that position, he knew those movements. Only two people ever stood that way, Karel and his sister, and it heralded the end for whoever or whatever stood against them. Karla had once called their technique the Astra Slash, a lethal skill that...well, as ridiculous as it sounded, made the wielder seem to split into five and attack from every angle at once. Guy had only seen them use it a few times during the war against Nergal, but he had never seen it miss...nor fail to kill.

And there, before his very eyes, he saw Karel begin to step backwards, seeming to step out of his own body and leave a copy of himself where he stood a moment before. Then again, again and again, until there were five sword demons before him. And they all rushed forward at once.

It was a second that seemed like an eternity, Guy simply watching the five Karels approach in their deadly formation. But as they came, his eyes, trained to see such chaotic motion like leaves on the wind, began to see them more clearly. Four of the Karels were...blurry, indistinct and hard to see, only one was solid. But which one that was...changed. Constantly. It was the third one, then the first, then the fourth, then the third again. _He's...moving. There's only one of him...he's just moving so fast it looks like there's five. How is that even possible! But...I can see it. _Guy tracked the motions, keeping up with which Karel was the real one at every move, and prepared to attempt what should have been impossible...blocking the Astra Slash.

As Karel closed the final distance, his images seemed to line up in order, each moving to strike from a different angle. But...the one in front was blurry, and Guy realized his chance. _That's the trick! The third attack is first...I can do this._ With all the speed he could muster, the young nomad brought his sword into position to parry.

The Karel in the third position was the first real strike, coming in with a low sweep at his opponent's legs. Guy snapped his sword down to meet it.

*CLANG*

What looked like the first Karel was second, using an overhead chop that moving to block first would have left his legs horribly exposed. Guy brought his blade up to push the attack to the side

*CLANG*

The fourth Karel came third, bringing a diagonal upward slice from the left. It was hard to meet it in time, but with a quarter-step back and a twist, Guy managed to block.

*CLANG*

Second was fourth, this time with a quick slash across the midsection. As each one of Karel's slashes had enough power behind it to kill on it's own, Guy's hands were numb from the impacts by now. But forcing his body to respond despite it's protests, he took another step back and met Karel's attack with a wild slash of his own.

*CLANG*

Finally the fifth Karel came, with the last trick of the Astra Slash. After four slashes, this time the sword demon moved into a low crouch, Wo Dao pulled back to be thrust right through Guy's gut. It was all the younger man could do to swing his killing edge down and hope it was in time.

*CLANG*

Guy's arms were aching in protest at what he just did...but the pain told him that he was, miraculously, still alive.

Karel, for now there was only one of him, staggered back from his quarry. He looked exhausted, breathing heavily and dripping sweat from his face. "You...how?" He gasped out, staring at Guy with an expression of complete disbelief.

Straightening up, Guy looked at his opponent and realized that he now had the upper hand. "I saw you moving. Before, I thought it was some magic trick. But...it's not. You just move faster then most people can see."

Collapsing to one knee for a moment, Karel then forced himself back to his feet, "Even...if you saw it. To move that fast..." Trying to force himself to act through the fatigue, the sword demon lunged forward again, intent on finishing the fight.

It was a clumsy attack, at least by Karel's standards, and one Guy easily evaded. This time Guy moved away, creating space and forcing Karel to move more if he wanted to attack again, "That really takes it out of you, doesn't it? You pay a price to move that fast."

Karel scowled, which wasn't nearly as frightening as his earlier smile, "Even now...all you do is dodge. Why don't you attack?"

"I..." Guy had been acting on instinct, but once he thought about it the answer was clear as day. "I don't need to. You're already beaten. You can't hit me. Even if you use the Astra Slash again, you're tired and I know the trick. I'll just block it again, and you'll be in even worse shape. I...win."

The scowl twisted into an expression of rage, "Not...yet..." Karel hissed out, and fell back into the stance that led into the Astra Slash, desiring to test Guy's confidence.

_Here we go._ Guy took a deep breath...and watched. This time he felt no fear. He knew what to do, he just had to do it.

Again, Karel seemed to split into five. Again he rushed in, attacking with inhuman speed.

*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*

Again Guy parried the attacks in order, fourth, third, fifth, first, second this time. His arms felt like lead by now, but Karel's strikes weren't quite as fast or powerful as before.

But this time as Karel staggered away, Guy stepped in. Using what strength he had left, he deliberately struck at the Wo Dao...and Karel didn't have enough left to hold onto it. The blade went flying from his hand.

Karel didn't even look up. "I...lost. Finish it."

Staring down at the man he once respected, then feared and hated...Guy now felt nothing. Not pity, not disgust. Nothing. Sheathing the killing edge, Guy shook his head, "I have to ask something. Why does there have to be death with you? Why isn't just winning enough?"

"A sword...is death, is it not? Even your sword that protects can only do so by killing those who would harm others. There is no point to a battle that does not end in death."

"Really?" Guy shrugged, then picked the Wo Dao up off the ground where it had fallen, "I don't agree. I've fought alot of battles where I didn't kill anyone, and I've gotten stronger from each one, win or lose. I was ready to kill you when this started...but I don't feel right killing someone I used to fight beside. So," he gestured with Karel's blade, "if I give you this back and let you go, are you going to come after me again? Or my friends? Because if you are, I'll do things your way. But I'd rather not if I don't have to."

Now Karel looked up, confusion and a strange indefinable emotion writ across his face, "...why?"

_Why? _Guy knew it was probably the wrong thing to do. Surely even if he didn't come after Guy and the Badgers again...he'd go after someone. But he just didn't want to do it, and he had to admit the reason was selfish. But selfish or not, it was the only one he had, "Because I'm not you."

Karel was quiet a long moment...then began to laugh, "I see. You are my opposite...and the sword saint is stronger then the sword demon."

Guy blinked, now it was his turn to be confused, "What...what are you talking about? I'm not a saint!"

"What else can you call one who does not need to attack to win? Who would have a demon at his mercy and refuse to strike the final blow?" Unsteadily, Karel rose to his feet, though it took him a few tries to make it.

_...I think he's gone crazy from losing. Well,_ Guy mentally amended, _crazier then he was already. _"Look," he held the Wo Dao out towards Karel...though keeping one hand on his own sword's hilt just in case, "just promise to leave us alone from now on, take your sword, and get lost."

Karel nodded, "You...have nothing to fear from me." But as he reached for the blade, his hand froze. And he pulled his hand away.

Guy gave him a questioning look.

"Keep it...for now. Perhaps I will return for it, perhaps it will be my sister instead." With one last look at the sword he killed his own parents to attain...Karel turned his back on it, slowly and shakily limping away.

Guy looked down at the Wo Dao...looked at the retreating Karel...looked back at the Wo Dao...and perhaps it was his own exhaustion or fading adrenaline causing him to bea bit slaphappy, but the only thing he could think was, _number of famous swords entrusted to me: 2._

* * *

He had lay down in the field to rest for awhile and let the fresh breeze relax him after the fight. Looking back over what had happened, Guy still wasn't entirely sure how he won. Karel was moving impossibly fast...and though he wasn't thinking about it at the time, he had to have been going nearly that same speed himself to avoid it. _I guess I'm better then I think I am..._

The sound of someone approaching drew his attention...and he pushed himself to a sitting position as Aerie walked over and sat down near him.

"Uh...sorry," Guy apologized, it just now occurring to him that the others might have been waiting for him to get back, "I should have come back first. I was just...tired, you know?"

The heroine smiled and brushed it off, "Don't worry about it, I already told everyone you were okay. I...followed you out to see the fight. That was amazing. I think we're underpaying you."

"You what?" Guy blinked, "I didn't even notice you."

"You were just a little distracted," she pointed out.

He chuckled, "Yeah...I guess I was. So..." he half didn't want to ask since the answer could well kill the calm he was feeling, but he had to know, "how are things in the camp? How is everyone?"

"That depends," Aerie answered with a sigh, "do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

Guy winced, "Bad."

"The 'blades are basically done for. Captain Zaki is dead, and so is Vance, who was basically his right hand man. They've got no leadership, a bunch of injuries, and the ones in the best shape are also the greenest." She shrugged, "So you can guess where this leaves us."

"Finishing this assignment without any backup." Guy finished for her, then slammed his fist into the ground, "...dammit, this wouldn't have happened if I weren't here."

"...they're mercenaries." Aerie tried to console her partner as best she could, "death happens. They knew that signing up. And...from what I gathered, he didn't attack anyone who didn't come for him first. On that subject though," she tried to cheer him up with the good news, "we still have our leadership. Branta made it. He's injured pretty bad, and Piet isn't making any predictions on when he'll be able to fight again yet, but...he's alive."

Guy breathed a sigh of relief. He felt guilty enough about the damage Karel had done already, he really didn't need Branta's death added to that. He and the captain didn't exactly like eachother...but he hardly wanted the man to die.

"So," Aerie led off, getting Guy's attention again before cocking her head to the side with a tired smile, "Did you mean what you said there? That we're your friends?"

_When did I say tha...wait...I know I was distracted, but seriously?_ Guy blinked, then raised an eyebrow, "You got close enough to hear us without me noticing?"

She grinned, "Hey, you may be the best fighter in the company, but I'm the tracking and stealth expert."

"I..." Guy sighed, laying back flat and staring at the evening sky. Had he really said that? He hadn't meant to. Friends were something he didn't want to have to worry about. But he knew himself well enough to know that when something like that slipped out while he wasn't paying attention...it was generally the truth. "I guess, yeah."

"Glad to hear it. You've...been pretty standoffish. Not that I can blame you too much, considering how you joined the company. But..." Aerie attempted to pry a bit, "this goes past that, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Guy admitted, then pried himself up off the ground to stand up, "but can we just leave it there? I don't want to get into it."

"Yeah...sorry." Aerie nodded and got up as well, "Um, besides, despite Piet trying to get him to rest, Branta wants a company meeting as soon as we get back in."

Guy nodded as well, "Right. Let's go then." _I can guess what this is about. And...I'll just beat him to it then._

* * *

Gathered in the small, but clear, space between their tents, the Badgers all met to figure out what they were going to do from here.

Guy winced a bit when he first saw Branta, heavily bandaged and only able to sit up straight with Piet's help. He would have died if not for the bishop's healing staff, but there was only so much even magic could do for a wound like that. _This wouldn't have happened if I weren't here._

Determined to do this himself, the Sacaen spoke up before their wounded captain even got started, "Look...Karel only came here because he was after me. This was my fault, and...I'm ready to leave. I won't even ask for my pay first...just use it to hire someone else."

Aerie looked shocked, while Noah and Teal exchanged one of their loaded looks. Branta, on the other hand, sighed heavily then cringed from the pain in his chest before shaking it off and openly glaring at the young man, "Is this one of those nomad honor things or are you just stupid?"

Guy was struck speechless by the old warrior's response, "I...uh..."

"Light above, you don't throw out your best fighter when you're already shorthanded, even if he did do something stupid," Branta ranted, "and believe me we're going to have some words about you not telling me that the damn Sword Demon was after you, but that can wait. Though while I'm on the subject, you have anyone else after your head that I should know about?"

Guy shook his head, "Um...not that I know of at least."

"Good." Branta shifted his position a bit and continued, "Alright then Badgers, here's the situation. I'm going to be out of commission awhile with this wound. Normally I'd leave Piet in charge, but there are alot of things that need his attention around here and fighters don't like taking orders from mages anyway. Not that you lot would mind, but we'll be taking on some of the 'blades. They'll at least be reporting to us for the rest of this job. So...Aerie, you're acting captain until I can swing an axe again."

"Hey!" Noah and Teal immediately interjected at once. "Why her?" Noah demanded. "Yeah, we've been with the company longer," Teal nodded, "we should be acting captain."

"Fine by me," Aerie noted, "which one of you?"

Noah looked at her like she was stupid, "Uh, she said 'we' Aerie, that's both of us."

"Which is exactly why it's not you," Branta raised his voice to regain control of the conversation, "only room for one leader on a battlefield. One person to make a decision that everyone else follows, no time to consult with your sister when there's an emergency."

"But..." Teal started to protest.

"This is not up for discussion." The captain shut her down. Then looking over to Aerie he gave her more specific instructions, "You'll be taking over duty rosters, that sort of thing. Make sure everyone's doing their job, and if we get attacked it's on you to lead the defense. I'll still be working though..."

"Over my protests, I would like it noted," Piet interrupted.

Branta ignored the priest, "I'll be interviewing the remaining 'blades, seeing if any of them want to sign on with us permanently. Guy, it was made pretty clear that he was here for you, so you'll have to deal with some resentment I'm sure. Deal with it, and don't accept any challenges if any of their hotheads call you out. That's an order, I don't give a shit about whatever reasons you might have to disobey. That clear?"

Guy nodded, actually quite glad to be able to say he had orders to refuse if it came up.

Aerie nodded as well, "I understand. And...taking in some of the 'blades, huh? Oh I hope that wannabe ladies man Cauld isn't one of them."

"He's, ah, already volunteered actually," Piet offered her an understanding and apologetic smile.

"Elimine save me." She slumped over in defeat while the twins broke out into giggles.

Having to laugh as well, Guy considered and pointed out, "Well...you do get to make the duty rosters now."

Aerie brightened up instantly, "...I do! I get to decide who gets stuck with him!" Then she turned and smiled at the twins who suddenly found the prospect of his inclusion in the group a lot less funny.

Branta cleared his throat to restore order...again...and the meeting went on until Piet called a stop to it and flat ordered the warrior to get some sleep. As Guy went to go catch a couple hours of sleep himself before his turn of night watch, he considered his place in the company...and in the world...and decided that the philosophy he had adapted wasn't entirely right.

_Friends. It's hard to keep people you're with all the time from turning into them, I guess. And...maybe that's not a bad thing. If...if it happens again...well, then I'll get over it again. I can't go back to pretending I don't care about them. And...I don't really want to. _

* * *

_Author's note: So, I missed an update last month but considering this is my largest chapter to date(and my wife had the last week of January off from work~) I think it's pardonable. A couple of general notes about the chapter as well. _

_1-On the subject of Karel. If you thought his "Astra Slash"(and yes that is a shout out to FE9/10 Swordmaster occult ability) sounded like the Swordmaster critical animation...then I got it right! Yeah, I know gameplay wise any swordmaster can do that(including Guy!) but I felt like making it his signature thing. And while I'm talking about gameplay/plot split, Karel's Wo Dao plotwise is a one of a kind sword that he killed his family to obtain. Which is the version I'm going with in the story, despite gameplaywise there being more then just the one. _

_2- As this went on, I really got the impression that this should have been two chapters. I needed to do alot of characterization/character growth for Guy and the Badgers before the big scene with Karel, and it probably should have gotten a chapter or so dedicated just to that. But...I'm trying to stick to an outline(which I've already screwed up with Masterless Sword I know), and wasn't really willing to give Guy another gaiden chapter while Matt hadn't had any. So I hope I made the right decision to shove all this into one chapter, but I still wanted to say that yeah I'm not entirely happy with it. I seem to be saying that about my recent chapters alot actually._

_Anyway, enough emo and second guessing myself. Hope you enjoyed and look forward to Matthew's next chapter...which gets us back to some plot that was foreshadowed alllllll the way back at the beginning~_


	15. Matthew: Shadow Tag part 1

Matthew - Shadow Tag, part 1

* * *

Seven. The guard with the nasal voice had done seven shifts outside his cell now. Not being allowed out at all, and having passed out from pain more times then he'd care to count early on had completely screwed up Matthew's sense of time, but he was determined not to go mad from it. One guard had an easily recognizable voice, even through the thick cell door. It wouldn't make sense for him to take multiple shifts in one day with long breaks in between, so Matthew could guess that he had been in here seven days.

_At least seven days_, he mentally amended. It wasn't out of the question for even more time to have elapsed...if Matthew missed a shift or two due to being asleep, say. But he wasn't going to dwell on that. It'd all get cleared up as soon as Grant arrived at least.

_If he even_...he shook it off and didn't let the thought finish. That was just desperation talking. Crispin had stopped trying to get information out of him, and that guy didn't strike Matthew as the type to give up. And so long as Grant got that message, Matthew knew he would come. The big tactician was too curious, he'd want to know who called on him by name. Last, but certainly not least, Crispin had called him "master" Grant, which meant that Grant ranked him, which meant the odds of that message actually getting sent went up. The facts were on his side, the despair was just the pain, hunger and isolation talking.

Hunger. Matthew's stomach growled at the thought of the word. They hadn't exactly been feeding him well in here either. He'd guess one meal a day, they tended to come when the nasal voiced guard did. Barely half sized portions as well...but it wasn't the first time he went a long time on little food. They were probably trying to keep his energy down, keep him from trying anything.

He almost laughed at the thought. Crispin was the real deal, but the guards out there...didn't seem like anything special. If he weren't waiting for Grant, Matthew would have already been out of here.

During the hours he managed to stay awake, he'd certainly come up with a plan for it. The guard who fed him left the door open four seconds longer then strictly necessary. Such a short time, but more then enough for Matthew to spring from his mat to the door. Grab arm, elbow to throat, one guard stunned long enough for Matthew to grab his weapon. The tricky part would be using it well enough with his fingers still busted up...some of them broken. If he was lucky the guard would have a knife, easier to do knife work with a hurt hand then full blade work. Finish off the stunned guard, use the corpse to keep the door jammed open. Use the door as cover, let one of them run off to raise the alarm, once he was armed he could finish the others, or at least injure them enough where he could slip past. Then he would face the decision of whether he should just run...or try to kill Crispin first, if he was still around.

No, Matthew could escape from here, even injured and underfed. It would be risky, but not outside his abilities.

But he wouldn't. Because he really needed to have some words with Grant. It'd be the best source of intelligence lord Oswin could ask for on the war, for starters. And on a more personal note, he really wanted to know why the big man suddenly decided to condone torture from his underlings. That wasn't like the Grant he knew at all.

So he waited. Sleeping when he could, eating the meals slowly to not waste their nourishment, figuring out which fingers were broken and which merely hurt. He wanted to get himself into the best condition he could and figure out exactly what he was capable of right now...since planning on it or no, he never knew when he might need to act.

* * *

_And now for the tricky part._ Grant eyed the ground wearily from the back of the wyvern. Getting on the things was never a problem, nor did he have any issues with flying. But he never had learned the trick of dismounting without winding up flat on the ground.

As if sensing the problem...or perhaps having heard the rumors, the wyvern's rider effortlessly slid off her beast's back first and offered a hand up to the tactician, "Allow me, sir."

He couldn't help but chuckle and offer an appreciative nod in return, "Thank you, Carrie." And with a steadying hand for help, it was suddenly much easier to reach the ground in a dignified, and more importantly, less painful manner.

Once on the ground, he took a look around at what was waiting for him. Sadly his initial scan from the air was correct, Crispin wasn't out here to greet him. But one of his soldiers, a captain from the rank insignia, was making his own way toward Grant's position, so that would have to do. Taking the initiative, Grant walked over to meet the man en route and nodded in greeting, "Captain. I take it Crispin has other business at the moment? I assumed he would be here personally if he were in at all."

The captain relaxed a bit and confirmed, "Yes sir. Master Crispin was hoping he would get back before your arrival, but the General required his presence."

"And he can't exactly stall without letting out a cat we really need to stay bagged," Grant finished. "Quite alright, I should be able to stay long enough to catch him before I have to go. Why don't you go ahead and lead me to the prisoner while you have some of your men see to Azereal's stabling?"

"Uh..." the captain balked a bit, "begging your pardon sir, but master Crispin left orders not to take you to the prisoner until his return."

Behind him, Grant heard an indignant snort from the wyvern rider, "He dares give Grant orders? Perhaps he forgets his place."

Before the soldiers could get riled up, Grant raised his voice just a touch, "Peace, Carrie. It's his operation, so that's not beyond the scope of his duties. However," he offered the captain a amiable smile, "I am going to pull rank and waive those orders. From his description, I'm quite certain I know the man and things will go much more smoothly if I can clear things up with him privately."

"But, sir," the captain protested, clearly uncomfortable with the request, "we have reason to believe this man is an assassin as well as a spy. I must insist you wait until master Crispin returns and we can arrange proper interrogation security."

Grant sighed. This was definitely one of Crispin's handpicked men alright. Which meant that reason wasn't going to work and it was time to be far more direct, "He is an assassin, but I assure you that he will not harm me. More to the point, if he wanted to harm me, Crispin's presence and proper security wouldn't make a whit of difference and I would be dead very shortly, along with anyone who attempted to stop him." The captain looked completely poleaxed by the casual way the tactician spoke of the man, then opened his mouth to protest again but Grant kept talking right over him to cut it off, "Even more to the point however, is the fact that this is not a request but an order, Captain. Take me to the prisoner."

There was a long moment of silence before the captain nodded, sharply and clearly not liking the fact, "Right this way, sir."

* * *

Voices.

Matthew pried himself up to a standing position as he heard voices on the other side of the door that went beyond the chatter of the guards. Someone was coming, multiple someones from the sound of it. Keeping perfectly still, the spy focused on listening to what was going on, trying to make out the words as best he could without needing to approach the door.

"Sir...beg...reconsider." It wasn't a voice he recognized, but the emphasis on certain words told Matthew the voice was speaking to a superior that was almost certainly more then a few steps over his rank.

"Shut your trap, groundpounder! You have your orders!" The volume of the female voice that replied made the whole line audible even through the door. _Groundpounder? That's..._ Matthew almost smiled, _that's wyvern cav slang for footsoldiers. It's not Vaida's voice, but probably one of her people. If that's the officer, I might be in luck._

But someone else must have said something, as the wyvern rider's voice was heard again, "Apologies, sir." _Sir? So she's not in charge then. But who the devil is a wyvern rider calling sir? Unless..._

He almost didn't dare to hope, but it was the only thing that made sense. As he heard the voices get closer and the jingle of the key ring that always heralded the opening of the door, Matthew tensed up. If this was who he thought it was, everything was fine. If not...then this was likely going to be very, VERY bad for him, and he would need to be ready to do something stupid and desperate.

The door opened.

* * *

Taking a quick moment to make sure the man in the cell was who he thought he was, Grant pushed the reluctant guard aside and stepped forward, "I thought so. Matthew, it's been..."

Words suddenly failed the strategist as he truly SAW the young spy, beyond merely confirming his identity. Bruised, unwashed, eyes half glazed, thinner then even he should have been. None too horrendous in and of themselves, really what someone in the condition of a prisoner should expect...except for his hands. Matthew's hands were practically mangled. Each finger was swollen, some clearly broken. The damage wasn't uniform, but looked very deliberate...and to top it all off, the palms seemed fine.

Grant had seen this before.

Closing his eyes, the large man tried very hard not to let the rising anger control him. He was a strategist. He didn't lose his temper, when he lost his temper men lost their lives. Good men. His men. When someone is responsible for the lives of so many others, that someone does not have the luxury of anger. He kept telling himself that until he was fully under control.

It took a lot longer then he would have liked.

Matthew hadn't yet spoken, likely waiting for Grant to play his hand first. That suited him just fine.

Turning to the captain, Grant locked eyes with the man and spoke very slowly and deliberately, hoping the man would have more sense then to argue this time, "Get a healer. Now." Not above turning his size to his advantage, the tactician loomed a bit as he gave the order.

The tactic had the desired effect, as the captain, despite being armed and armored, took an involuntary step backwards as he stammered out, "A-apologies sir, but master Crispin is the only one who can use magic staves here. We don't have another healer."

"Of course you don't, I don't know why I thought you would." Grant grumbled, the sarcasm slipping out before he could stop it. Not really in the mood to check his temper, he simply let the comment stand and called for the one person here who's competency and loyalty he trusted at the moment, "Carrie, go get the bottle of elixir from your saddlebag. Make sure it's the elixir, a vulnerary isn't going to cut it here."

With the efficiency he expected of her, Carrie nodded sharply and took off back down the hall.

"Now then," Grant gave the Captain his best I'm-not-done-with-you-yet look before turning back to Matthew, "I..."

* * *

"...really don't know what to say about all of this. Can you walk without issue? We can meet Carrie on her way back in if so. At least get you out of this wretched cell."

Matthew couldn't really put a finger on the first few emotions that ran through his head upon seeing the big strategist again. But just as readily as he always had during the war, Grant took the situation here in hand and started to fix it instantly, for which the spy could only be grateful. Nodding in response to the question, Matthew spoke aloud for the first time in awhile, not surprised to hear his voice cracking, "Y-yeah. Gah." He cleared his throat, or at least tried to, "I can walk."

"Sir!" The officer behind Grant spoke up again with an urgent tone. Before the man even finished his thought, Matthew saw Grant's eyes narrow dangerously. He'd seen that expression before, and it never ended well for whoever brought it on.

"You object, I assume?"

Undaunted by the venom in Grant's voice, the captain continued, "Sir, you said nothing about releasing this man. You've said yourself that he's an assassin, I cannot allow you to remove him from this cell. The operation here is far too sensitive to allow a dangerous unknown operative to wander freely."

Grant's reply was quiet and level, "He, and his employer, are known to me. That will suffice. Consider yourself dismissed, Captain. I no longer require your assistance or objections at this time."

The captain once again begin to speak in objection, but Grant cut him off sharply, "In fact, why don't you make yourself useful and run off to your master's heels to let him know all the horrible things I'm doing at his base. The sooner he returns, the sooner he and I can share words on the matter of a certain device I ordered destroyed months ago, the ethical treatment of prisoners as instructed by the Prince himself, and his hiring practices."

Matthew couldn't help it at that point. He started laughing, which surely didn't help Grant's position any but for reasons that probably only make sense when you're half starved and not entirely sane, he just found the whole situation too funny. Even while cracking up laughing, he could see Grant just slowly shake his head and turn back to the soldiers, who were all staring at him like he was a maniac.

"Well then," Grant asked the remaining guards as the dismissed captain made his exit, "is a new chief protestor going to make themselves apparent, or can I expect cooperation from the rest of you?"

None of them made disagreeable noises, though as he got himself back under control Matthew noted they didn't seem to happy about this turn of events. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about all this, and not just for his own sake.

As the guards cleared the way, allowing Grant and Matthew to leave the cell, Matthew faked a bit of a limp and walked up beside the Etrurian, leaning on his shoulder ostensibly for support, but really to get himself close enough to whisper, "Something's wrong about this lot, Grant. I don't think your position is going to protect you here much longer."

Adjusting his glasses with his free hand, Grant murmured in return, low enough that even Matthew had trouble hearing, "I only need it to long enough to get you that elixir and a blade."

Matthew didn't respond. He had nothing else to say until they had a chance to talk privately. He did, however, make sure to confirm that Grant's belt knife was right where the man usually wore it.

Just in case.

They didn't get very far before being met by the wyvern rider rushing back through the base towards them with a very distinct bottle of blue liquid clutched in her hands. Right at that moment, that bottle and the woman carrying it were the most beautiful things Matthew had ever seen. He heard a deep sigh of relief...and was a bit surprised to realize it had come from him.

The wyvern rider quirked half a smile as she handed the bottle to Grant, "Here, sir."

Taking the bottle, Grant removed the stopper as Matthew stopped leaning on his shoulder, "Hold your hands out."

Doing as he was told, Matthew reveled in the feeling of the cool liquid being dripped onto his hands. Like the magic that it was, he felt it seeping right through his skin and mending the injuries as he rubbed it all over his fingers. The pain retreated, replaced by the indescribable feeling of his broken fingerbones knitting themselves back together. The spy gave an involuntary shiver at the sensation, welcome as it was. _That NEVER stops being weird. At least it wasn't my ribs this time. _

"Alright, that looks like it's working." Grant lifted the bottle up, "Open. You need to drink a few drops as well."

That made him wince, but Matthew again did as instructed. He hated drinking healing elixir. It wasn't that it tasted horrid, in fact he couldn't tell you how it tasted at all. Because as soon as the drops hit his tongue, his entire mouth went numb. He knew better then to let it linger in his mouth, and swallowed the drops as soon as Grant was done, letting the odd numbness spread through his torso.

The rider's half smile broadened as she quipped, "Quick, name and rank, solider!"

Matthew responded with a glare, while Grant tried not to snicker.

As Matthew was waiting for the numbness to go away, Grant waved over one of the soldiers who had been following at a respectful distance, "I require a place where I can speak with this man privately. What can your facility offer in that regard?"

* * *

Grant took a look around the room the soldier led them to, then looked back to the solider and stated with a flat tone, "I'm going to need you to find a different room."

"It's fine, Grant." Matthew waved it off, "I'm harder to crack then that, just being in here won't bother me."

_Perhaps not you. Me on the other hand._ Grant adjusted his glasses as he considered how best to phrase his very strong desire to be elsewhere in a manner that neither suggested weakness in front of Crispin's soldier, nor belittled Matthew's stated ability to cope with it.

"Oh, it will be just peachy," Carrie noted with a sarcastic drawl, "If you don't mind me wanting to stab this putrid excuse for an officer more the longer I'm in here."

"Yeah, it'll be fine." Matthew supplied in a casual deadpan that almost made Grant laugh despite his own feelings on the matter.

Carrie did laugh, which was all the reason Grant needed not to add his own voice to that. Turning to the soldier, who was looking quite intimidated by the rider and assassin duo, the strategist offered a shrug, "Well, I suppose if you had anything else you would have offered me that first, wouldn't you? You may leave us."

The man nodded and wasted no time vanishing, leaving the three of them alone in Crispin's...doubtlessly he would call it his "interrogation" room. "Well," Grant turned his back on the device attached to one wall, not willing to spend the conversation staring at it, "why don't I satisfy the questions you surely have first, then you can explain how this entire mess happened in the first place."

* * *

Matthew was made of sterner stuff then most, which is why he was able to keep his reaction inside when he was led into the torture chamber for what would ironically be a perfectly civil conversation. _It's fine_, he repeated to himself, _just enjoy the little bit of spite in the room getting to hear what I have to say without that bastard in it. _

Nodding to Grant, the spy grabbed one of the chairs in the room and had a seat, "Sure. Here's the first obvious one, what the hell are you doing working with a guy like Crispin? Is that the Prince's style, since I know it's not yours?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Matthew knew he'd said the wrong thing, as Carrie's earlier decent humor vanished in a flash, her hand going to the lance across her back, "You dare!"

"Peace, Carrie!" Grant called her down with a long suffering sigh, "Matthew you really should know better then to even hint at disrespecting the Prince in front of a wyvern rider."

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm not exactly a hundred percent right now. Sorry. But really, what's with this guy?"

"Suffice to say he is part of the original batch that convinced Prince Zephiel that the country would be better off were he to seize power from King Desmond immediately. He also served at the movement's primary strategist before Vaida returned with me in tow."

"So you can't just get rid of him since he was in this from the get-go." Matthew finished the train of logic.

Grant nodded, "Exactly. His...preferred methods are not in line with the goals of Prince Zephiel, Dame Vaida, or myself, but when he can be made to abandon them he is amazingly effective. I've been trying to teach him how to get better results with less inhumane methods, but he's sadly convinced that my successes are the result of me being some manner of superhuman intellect and thus cannot be taken as indicative of the effectiveness of the methods themselves."

"...that may set the new standard in backhanded compliments." Matthew slumped over in the chair and shook his head, "and I'm guessing forbidding him from torturing people doesn't stick?"

"No. I ordered him to destroy that device before, but it seems he ignored me. Efficiency is the greatest virtue for Crispin, and he truly believes deception, torture and other such underhanded methods produce the best results in the shortest amount of time. I..." Grant sighed and adjusted his glasses yet again, "...am going to need to recommend to his highness that Crispin be kept on a much shorter leash. Which is unfortunate, since he's fully capable of operating successfully within acceptable means on his own. He just...won't."

It wasn't quite the explanation he was expecting, but Matthew supposed it would have to do. _It's...not really my problem anyway. Not anymore at least._

"So," Grant changed the subject slightly, "how did he manage to capture you? And what brings you to Bern in the first place?"

"That..." Matthew shook his head and countered, "first, I've got another question and you said something about getting me armed? Even with you two here, this still feels like in the middle of enemy territory to me right now."

"Ah, of course. Carrie?" Grant turned back to the wyvern rider who was standing near the door, "Could I convince you to part with your sword?"

She hesitated a long moment, which Matthew supposed he couldn't find surprising, before speaking up, "I...trust you, sir. But before I surrender a weapon to this man, I'd like to know who he really is and who he works for."

"Yeah, that's fair." Matthew replied, saving Grant the trouble, "Matthew is my real name. I'm a spy for Lord Hector, Marquis Ostia and titular head of the Lycian League. Nothing Grant doesn't already know, so no harm in being upfront about it for once."

"He was involved in that whole mess against Nergal and the Black Fang, along with Heath, Vaida, Legault and a few others." Grant added for her benefit.

Carrie nodded and unbuckled her sword belt, handing it to Matthew, "I'll accept that. Here."

"Thanks." Standing up, he belted it around his waist and immediately felt a lot more secure in his situation. "And my other question...when I was caught, I had been working with a man named Wester. An ex-fang archer, he thinks I was working for the Prince. I don't know what happened to him."

"I'm afraid the message said nothing about him." Grant's answer was about what Matthew had expected, but that didn't stop him from wishing it were otherwise. "I will of course inquire after him when I speak with Crispin. It...may be best for you to be gone before he returns, though. If he is still...well, alive, and amenable to the situation I may see about extending your guise and recruiting him. He wouldn't be the only former member of the Black Fang in our ranks, to be frank."

"Yeah, that sounds like the best idea." Matthew tried not to dwell on the idea that the archer might be dead. It was impossible not to think about it at all though. _No more partners. From here on, I do it all alone._

Putting it out of his mind as best he could, Matthew returned to Grant's question for him and explained how he'd gotten caught.

The Etrurian nodded through most of it, asking for clarification at points, but overall seemed satisfied by the story. Which was good, since Matthew wasn't lying to him about any of it.

"Which leaves what errand brings you here at all. But allow me to hazard a guess...Nergal?"

"Partially." Matthew confirmed, "That was previously my first priority. Lord Oswin sent orders telling me to focus on keeping tabs on the war instead recently. That was right before I got caught."

Grant winced, "That does not strike me as the best priority there. We have...well, I won't say we have the situation under control here, but I'm confident we will come out of this victorious. And either way things fall out here, Bern will be in no shape to meddle in Lycia's affairs for some time. Nergal is by far the more relevant threat."

"That was about my line of thinking, yeah." Matthew nodded, but also felt obliged to point out, "But we couldn't really know how things were here. I haven't heard anything about you sending updates back to Lord Hector, so they need to rely on me to gather intelligence."

"I..." Grant sighed heavily and rubbed his temples in exhaustion, "simply did not..."

"Want them to keep relying on you." Matthew finished. "I get it. But you can't say that, then assume they'll just trust that you've got things here and not want one of their people checking it out."

"No, I suppose I cannot, you're quite right. Still," the strategist frowned, "I'm extremely concerned by whoever is making morphs, and don't quite have the resources to investigate it properly myself. The resources in question being people either subtle enough to look deeply into this matter and not get caught, or strong enough to extricate themselves from any confrontations with powerful morphs, or worse yet the one making them, that may occur."

Grant was rather pointedly not looking directly at Matthew as he spoke, which told the spy he was beginning to plot something. And it probably involved him. Deciding to play along, he took a stab at giving Grant the opening he likely wanted, "What about Legault? He is still with you, right?"

"He is, yes." Grant nodded, "We also cannot afford to reassign him from his current task of lurking about the Prince's person as a counter-assassin measure. He is also overly fond of engaging in the occasional wacky shenanigans, which could prove quite disastrous in an endeavor of this magnitude."

_He really has to be stressed here if he's using phrases like wacky shenanigans with a straight face. _He tried not to laugh, but while Grant was usually a difficult man to read, he had a few tells that Matthew had long since figured out. Such as extending his vocabulary into multiple polysyllabics to get across simple points when under exceptional stress. Nodding along, with it all regardless, Matthew cut to the chase, "You're about to propose something."

"Ah, yes. You know me well it seems." Grant chuckled, then got down to business himself, "To be quite honest you are perhaps the perfect man for the job. I would be willing to engage in an exchange of duties and information, I begin sending missives to Lord Hector directly about the war which leaves you free to focus on the source of the morphs. About which I have managed to gather at least some intelligence thus far. And you would report your findings both to Ostia and myself, or perhaps Vaida as she's reliably easier to locate."

It sounded like a fairly good deal, Matthew had to admit. He considered it for a bit, looking for the catch, for anything that made it a bad idea. But as much as he tried, he could only think of one, "Lord Oswin isn't going to like it, I can promise that."

"You've talked your way out of worse breaches of conduct with him before, I'm sure."

"Yeah, true enough. So tell me what you know."

"Very well then." Grant finally went to get a chair for himself and ad a seat, though he still kept his back to the device on the wall, "I sadly don't have conclusive evidence of the identity of the morph creator, but I do have reason to believe it is actually NOT Nergal. Aside from the fact that I saw Hector smash his entire body apart like an overripe melon with Armads."

Matthew snickered at the somewhat gruesome memory, "Lets hear it then."

"This first came to my attention, along with confirming my initial suspicion that the new morphs were coming from right her in Bern, when Heath noticed a few individuals in the King's army with black hair, fair skin, golden eyes...and very thin blood."

"So they're on the King's side? Hmm." Matthew began to think. The Black Fang under Nergal had been manipulating politics in Bern for awhile, so taking a side in the conflict now wasn't unexpected.

"Not entirely, actually."

Matthew looked up, curious about the phrasing, "What do you mean?"

"We later found morphs enlisting in our army as well. And I don't believe as spies. I had the opportunity to question one, and he did not even seem aware of the fact that he was a morph."

"Um, excuse me sir," Carrie spoke up, interjecting into the conversation a bit hesitantly, "This is the first I've heard of any of this. Is this being kept a secret?"

"From the majority of the people, yes," Grant nodded, "Consider yourself in the know now, and keep it to yourself please."

"Yes sir!" She nodded, and Matthew couldn't help but be amused at the expression on her face, so eager to be part of an elite few.

"Others still," Grant resumed his explanation, "Have been seen as part of mercenary forces or bands of thieves. Not many, only one here and another there, but they have been seen. But what really sets this apart from Nergal's work, is that all the ones sighted thus far seem to have no trouble interacting with normal humans. They think. They're intelligent. Not simply mindless puppets."

Matthew had nothing to say to that. What could he say? He was still trying to process it. Morphs. More of them. Intelligent ones. All...doing what?

Seeming to have the same train of thought, Grant made the same observation aloud, "I was earlier operating under the assumption that the more intelligent morphs like Sonia and Limstella were somehow more difficult or expensive to make. But seeing more of them now, and not even working for a unified purpose, makes me question that. There are two things of greatest import that need to be learned. Where are these new morphs coming from. And why? What is their purpose? The identity of the creator honestly doesn't matter nearly so much as the intentions."

"And that's where I come in." Matthew nodded, "Alright. Deal. You send reports on the war, including what I'm going for now, back to Ostia. And I'll track the morphs back to where they come from."

"I was hoping you would say that." Grant smiled, clearly a bit relieved, "I'll admit this idea had been kicking around in my mind even during the flight out here. However, I do have one more concern."

"Which is?"

"This is dangerous, Matthew. Even with your skills, I'm not sure you should be attempting this alone."

_No. _Matthew took a deep breath, preparing himself to argue with the tactician on that point. _No more partners. I can't look after anyone else. I can't afford to care about anyone else._

"Master Grant," Carrie stepped towards the two men, "I'll volunteer! It might be dangerous, but Azereal and I are up to the task, I promise."

_Oh HELL no._ Fortunately Matthew could instantly think of a dozen good reasons why that wasn't going to work, "No offense, but I'll have to refuse. This operation is going to require a lot of stealth, and stealthy is about the last thing wyverns are."

"But..."

"No, he's right Carrie." Grant spoke up, "I don't doubt your skills, but this is simply not a task you're suited to."

"It's not a task anyone is really suited to," Matthew pointed out, and hoped his logic would actually hold up against the strategist's scrutiny, "nobody you have is going to be able to help with this without either slowing me down, risking my cover, or being a liability in a fight. Well, almost nobody, but you already said you can't spare Legault."

"I suppose you're right about that as well." Grant sighed.

Matthew felt a sense of relief. _He bought it. Well, it is good logic, not just an excuse._

But just as quickly, that relief turned into something else entirely at Grant's next words, "But as providence would have it, there is someone in Bern who has proven more then capable of keeping up with you, and you certainly don't have to worry about when violence occurs. As for your cover...well, I'm sure he can at the least be convinced to keep his mouth shut at the right times." The tactician smiled a bit as he revealed his suggestion, "You see, it seems that Guy has joined a group of mercenaries that are currently in the Prince's employ."

_St. Ellimine in heaven please tell me what sin I have committed to deserve this?_ Of course Matthew was a little more self aware then he would like to be sometimes, and immediately had to amend, _okay, which of my sins. Dammit._

"As you don't seem entirely pleased by that, I have to ask..." Grant leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands and giving the spy a very appraising look, "what exactly happened back in Badon, Matthew?"

The words stung. It was something Matthew didn't want to think about. He'd been trying to forget all about it. But it seemed that Grant hadn't forgotten it, even if Matthew hadn't even been aware the man knew something happened until now. _Of course he knew... and of course he hadn't forgotten. It's Grant. Thinking is what he gets paid for._

"Honestly Grant," Matthew found his voice, and kept it level, not letting the frustration show, "It's not any of your business. Guy's not going to work either, and let's leave it at that. He and I are no longer any of the others' concern."

"...I see." Grant sighed and leaned back in his chair, "I hope for your sake that really is true, Matthew."

_...why?_ He almost asked out of reflex, but forced himself not to. _He knows something I don't. But...it's not my business. I don't care anymore._

Grant let the silence play out a few moments until Carrie broke it, "Um, Master Grant? Why? What's happening with him?"

Right at that moment Matthew didn't think he hated anyone so much as that nosy wyvern rider. "How the hell is it any of your concern anyway?"

Carrie turned a withering glare on the spy, "Hey, it's being talked about right in front of me and now I'm curious! I wasn't asking you anyway toothpick, so shut your mouth while I'm talking to master Grant."

"Enough, children." Grant gave them both a fairly displeased look. Carrie looked down, a bit embarrassed by the rebuke, while it only served to piss Matthew off more.

"Don't patronize me, Grant. You're not that much older then me."

Grant ignored the comment and did exactly what Matthew didn't want him to do, "To answer Carrie's question, since I suppose she does have a right to ask being present for the conversation, just before I left I heard a report of a man matching Karel's description being seen in one of the towns sworn to the Prince. He was asking questions about where to locate a Sacaen swordmaster. You can imagine what came to mind."

_Karel._ The name hit Matthew like a hammer to the gut. The sword demon himself. He had seen what Karel did on the battlefield, and it wasn't pretty. Or perhaps it was, but only in very morbid ways. The man was an artist of death. He had always seen Guy as beneath his notice during the war, but..._but Guy's been getting better._

"Who's Karel?" Carrie asked, speaking the name softly as if almost afraid to ask.

"You may have heard of him referred to as the Sword Demon." Grant explained. "He...was technically an ally during the war with Nergal and the Black Fang. But I hesitate to call him even that at times. He was killing the same people we were killing at least."

"He looks for the best fighters. The strongest people." Matthew found himself adding, voice low and drained of feeling, "and he kills them."

"And...he's going after one of our people?" Carrie stared at the strategist, "what are we going to do about that then?"

Matthew wanted to know the same thing, but he didn't dare let himself ask it.

"There's not anything we can do, Carrie." Grant could offer only a shrug in return, "I can think of only two men who could stop Karel, and neither is guaranteed. And neither is under my command, so the point is moot. It's...remotely possible that Dame Vaida herself could beat him? But only a chance. And we can't risk her like that. Please don't get any foolish ideas of doing something yourself either. You will die if you confront him, there is not even the slightest chance you could win. Frankly the next most likely person to win that is Guy himself...but that is also only a remote chance."

"But...if there's nothing we can do, why did you even suggest that Guy go with Matthew?" Carrie demanded.

Grant simply raised an eyebrow at her. Matthew wondered how long it would take her to figure it out.

To her credit...it wasn't that long before she carefully looked back towards the spy and hesitantly asked, "Wait...is he...?"

"One of those two, yes." Grant confirmed.

Matthew looked down. He wanted to protest. He couldn't beat Karel in a straight fight, he knew that. But...he couldn't. Because it wouldn't be a straight fight. He could outrun the man, hide, escape his sight. Then, when he had the opportunity..._even a demon has to sleep. _

"He's with a company called Branta's Badgers." Grant gave Matthew more information he really didn't want to know. "What you do with that...is up to you. I still don't like you doing this alone, but I'll grant that I don't have anyone to offer that wouldn't get in your way, and I trust you to know your work."

_I...I...can't face him. I don't need that. He doesn't need that. Karel though..._ Finding out where a mercenary group was wouldn't be too hard. Intercepting the demon on the way in...might be more problematic, but if he moved quickly.

"Here," Matthew hadn't even noticed Grant stand up, or pull out the small book the man was now holding out towards him, "I've been collecting notes on the morphs in the margins of this. There's also some instructions in the back on how to get a message to Vaida, just in case someone ever found my corpse and needed to let her know."

Cursing his inattentiveness, Matthew took the book and eyed it, amused to discover it was a pocket sized prayerbook. _These things cost a pretty penny to print. And he's been keeping notes in it. Sounds about right._

"Alright." He stood up and pocketed the book, then looked over to Carrie, "Mind if I keep this sword?"

"Go ahead," she shrugged, not too concerned by the loss, "It's just a common iron sword, I can take a spare one from one of the mudsloggers here. Are...you leaving now?"

"Yeah. Or..." Matthew looked back to Grant, "any chance my things are in storage here at all?"

"Probably not, but I'll look. And I can spare you the gold to get yourself provisioned properly if not." Dusting his hands off, Grant walked over to the door and opened it up, calling for a soldier who had been waiting outside, "Guardsman, get two others and return here. I have some further orders for you..."

* * *

His things sadly hadn't been anywhere they could find in the base, but when Grant said he could spare the gold he wasn't joking. So it was that Matthew found himself setting out to get in at least a couple hours of travel before dark with nothing but the clothes on his back, a scribbled in prayerbook, a borrowed sword, and a pack with enough hard provisions to get him to a nearby town.

Oh, and a shiny white gem that he would be having a few words with a merchant in said town about.

As he walked, his mind raced with plans of how to investigate where the morphs were coming from, as well as speculation about their purpose. It felt good to have a solid goal, and one he could really focus on to the exclusion of all else.

Well, almost all else. He had something to do before really getting started on that job, and it wasn't just buying new gear. _Sorry Karel. But you really aren't going to know what hit you._

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note: Like Masterless Sword, this is going to be a two part chapter. Partially because this scene needed to happen but Matthew has more to do before we can get back to Guy, and partially because it makes for good symmetry for both of them to get a two part chapter like that. Thanks to Grant's timely information the plot that began brewing way back in the beginning is starting to come back to the fore, and next time Matthew gets to run straight into it. _

__However, a short note for my regular readers. You may need to wait until May for that update, as I'll be moving next month and that is one chapter I cannot afford to rush or halfass. Since I'm sure most if not all of you have also had moving disrupt other plans, I'm sure you understand. I will try and get a School of Hard Knocks chapter out at least, since that can be more fluff. If you're reading this at some point in the future for the first time, well, ignore this note! And hi future reader, hope you're enjoying the story!

And finally, as for Grant, Crispin and Carrie...well, after writing this I have firmly decided that I will have to get around to writing Right and Rulership, the story about the war in Bern, after Sword and Shadow is complete. Putting my internet rep where my mouth is, first chapter of that will be January 2012. Setting hard deadlines for myself seems to be working so far anyway~


	16. Matthew: Shadow Tag part 2

Matthew - Shadow Tag part 2

Finding where Branta's Badgers were camped wasn't very difficult. Surely there could only be one town in the area who's mayor was mentally challenged enough to hold a horse fair in the middle of a civil war like nothing was going on, and as he could clearly see the horse pens from his current vantage point, this had to be the place.

Of course, Matthew had no intentions of entering the town. Or even approaching close enough to be spotted by the guards. So he collapsed the spyglass he had been looking at the town through, and considered the surrounding area.

Which direction would Karel come from? North? He'd be coming in from Sacae that way, which would make sense. And there were other towns sworn to the Prince that way, which is where Grant said he was seen. West would also make sense, as there was an easy to follow road that ran out from the west of the town, also leading to towns sworn to the Prince.

_Coinflip chance then. _Matthew shrugged and made the judgment call, heading for the north. He knew Karel hadn't made it here yet at least. The peddler on his way out of the horse fair that morning didn't stop to chat with Matthew long, but he did manage to hear that the Badgers still had a green haired Sacaen swordsman working for them. He'd wished the old man gave him a bit more time to ask questions, but time was money and all that.

Making his way to the northern field, Matthew kept down and got moving. Trying to find one man on the way in without even knowing for certain if this was the way he would take perhaps wasn't the best plan he'd ever had. But...he couldn't think of a better one that didn't involve going into the town and facing Guy. Which he just couldn't do. _That probably makes me a coward. But it's not like I've got any honor to preserve anyway. I just hope my guess is right... _

* * *

Something just wasn't right about the picture that Matthew was seeing. Two days out from the town, he had spotted a small camp with only a single occupant. One that he recognized quite well. With his flowing black hair and graceful motions, the Sword Demon was an easy man to recognize, even from a distance.

But…he seemed to be moving away from the town. When Matthew first noticed that, he felt a moment of sheer dread. Could Karel have already done what he came to do? But a second observation cast doubt on that assumption, as well as everything Matthew thought he knew about the man.

Karel, the ruthless murderer known as the Sword Demon, was not carrying a sword.

He had never, from the moment Karel joined Lord Eliwood's army, seen the man without a blade. _Not just without A blade_, Matthew mentally corrected, _without THAT blade. Why doesn't he have the Wo Dao?_

As he watched Karel sitting in his camp and sipping a drink, Matthew slowly backed up to keep the camp just within his range of vision as he waited for night to fall. _Whatever the reason, it makes this a lot easier on me. _

* * *

It was a fairly dark and still night. The darkness worked to his advantage, even as the silence worked against him. The slightest accidental movement would be heard, and would wake his quarry. Which was something Matthew wanted to avoid at all costs. As strange at it would be for Karel to not carry his blade, the spy couldn't guarantee he didn't have it. Perhaps hidden in his bedroll. Perhaps just lying in the grass where Matthew couldn't have noticed it from the distance he watched from before.

Regardless, it meant caution was the rule of the day. Even if Karel didn't have his sword, all it would take was one bad move. One mistake, and he could get Matthew's sword away from him. Then it would be over.

_Staring down that dragon didn't scare me like this_. Matthew kept down the strange nervous laughter he was feeling inside. Was it because he was alone? Or simply because this was the most dangerous enemy he had ever committed himself to fighting? _Except that he's not. He's no Nergal, and sure as hell isn't a dragon. _

Was it simply because of what he was planning to do? It wasn't the first time he had killed a man in his sleep, so he wasn't sure why it would suddenly bother him now. _Never anyone I once called an ally, though._

Shaking off the feeling, wherever it stemmed from, Matthew put his hesitation aside and approached the camp. _I'm either saving his life or avenging him. Either way…this has to be done._

He was close now. Twenty feet. Then only fifteen. Then ten. He couldn't see any depressions in the grass where a sword might be laying, but that didn't mean he was safe.

Only five feet away now. Matthew hadn't made a noise, and Karel hadn't stirred. Two more steps and he was close enough to strike.

Matthew stepped in. One step. Two. Three steps. He should have struck already, but now he was directly beside Karel's bedroll.

Knife already drawn, he knelt down. Slowly, following an instinct all of his training told him was a bad idea, Matthew placed the knife to Karel's throat. "Wake up."

The words were unnecessary, Karel had snapped awake the moment the cold steel touched him. Without flinching even the slightest, Karel calmly greeted his assailant, "Matthew. I had been wondering when this would happen."

Not allowing Karel's words to lower his guard, Matthew kept the knife exactly where he had placed it, confident that if the Sword Demon tried to do anything he could strike faster from his position. But that didn't mean the words didn't get to him, "What do you mean?"

It was hard to see Karel's face in the dark, but Matthew could swear the man almost smiled, "From the first moment I drew my sword against Guy, I knew you would find me. But even still, I could not resist the urge to kill him."

Those words, and the way Karel said them, left a leaden feeling in the pit of Matthew's stomach. One he wished he could pretend wasn't there. Keeping his voice and his hands steady, he asked the question he needed answered, "So you killed him?"

"No," Karel replied, "he yet lives."

The leaden feeling began to lighten, though Matthew dared not sigh in relief even as he put the pieces together, "He got away from you then. You understand I have to kill you before you find him again then?" It bothered him that he was still talking yet. That he hadn't just done it. _Just what am I trying to do here, ask his permission?_

Even with the point of Matthew's knife at his throat…Karel laughed. It was a strange sound, like it held genuine amusement rather then the sort of malice or psychosis he had always imagined whatever counted as mirth for Karel would have.

Frankly the sound creeped him out. It was getting harder to keep his hand still, but he had to keep control. If he slipped… "What's so funny?"

"I see," Karel continued to chuckle at the situation, "you won't let yourself see it at all. I can't blame you, I had trouble believing it myself and I was there."

"What. The hell. Are you talking about?" The laughter was getting to him. The cryptic words just as much. He shouldn't be cracking here, he was a professional. He didn't crack. But after the events of the last few days, Karel was getting to him in ways that he hated himself for allowing.

"Matthew…" Karel's laughter died away and he explained very plainly, "You're too late. I already found him again. And I lost."

Matthew understood the words, but the meaning seemed like fog in his mind. Guy defeated Karel? It wasn't one of the possibilities he had considered at all. Largely because he hadn't considered it possible. It did occur to him that Karel might be lying though, so he searched for the clues, what might be out of place. It didn't take him long to think of one. "So how are you still alive then?"

"I ask myself the same question." Karel easily answered. "I relive the fight in my mind over and over, and always the same thing happens. He evades my strikes. He blocks the Astra Slash. Then he disarms me. Never does he strike the killing blow that should have come."

_How do you beat a guy like Karel, in a real fight, not just some sparring match, without killing him?_ Matthew had to admit he was nearly as perplexed as Karel seemed to be. And part of him inside felt a little ill at realizing he understood Karel's point of view better then Guy's.

"Every time I think of it," the man once feared as a demon continued, "I think that perhaps I am truly dead, and this time I will recall the true events of that fight. That Guy would have struck my head from my shoulders rather then the Wo Dao from my hand. But nothing ever changes. I found him with intent to kill, but still he spared my life."

"Why?"

Karel could only give the answer Guy himself did. "Because he isn't me. Or perhaps I should say he isn't us."

Matthew wanted to argue. Wanted to claim that he was better then Karel. But he couldn't, not even to himself. _I found him with intent to kill. And I wasn't even planning on offering a fair fight first._

Taking his knife from Karel's throat, Matthew put the blade away and just sat down on the ground next to the man's bedroll.

Karel sat up, but made no attempt to reach for a weapon, or even move away from the man who had just held a blade at his neck, "You have nothing to fear from me. I left the Wo Dao in his care. And…" the demon laughed a bit, still a strange sound to Matthew's ears, "to be honest I don't think I would know what to do with a blade right now even if I held one."

"Losing rattled you that hard?" Matthew snorted, "Everyone loses sometimes."

"It wasn't the what," Karel shook his head, "it was the how. Only twice did he swing his blade at me. Once a mere graze, intended not to strike but to force me to retreat. And the other at my blade instead of my body." Turning his head, he gave the spy beside him a searching look, "How do you win a battle without attacking, Matthew?"

"I…" Matthew thought about the very concept and had to shrug, "I don't know."

Karel nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "Guy does."

_He's done a lot of growing up since then, hasn't he? _Matthew sighed, not really wanting to think about how Guy was doing, but ever since he'd made the decision to come after Karel he hadn't been able to keep it from his mind. In an attempt to change the subject, he asked about something else he was wondering, "So what are you going to do from here?"

"I'm not sure." Karel shrugged, "I need to learn what he knows, but I don't know how. Perhaps I will simply wander until I understand why the Saint is superior to the Demon. Until I can learn that...I can only wield half of a sword."

"Maybe you should go see your sister?" Matthew wasn't sure why he suggested it, but it just seemed like the right thing to say.

Karel was quiet for a very long moment before nodding, "Maybe I should. I have spent so long avoiding her, for her sake and mine I did not wish to become close. But...perhaps it is time."

It was an odd thing, talking so easily with a man who he once thought had no emotion but bloodlust. Who did nothing but kill. _For her sake and his. Where have I heard that kind of sentiment before? _

Long into the night the defeated demon and the troubled assassin spoke. And when Matthew woke in the morning, Karel was already gone.

* * *

"You wouldn't happen to have a brother out in Tarmung, would you?" Matthew, in his new guise as the bounty-hunter Maxim, casually struck up a conversation with a soldier sitting alone in the tavern. A soldier with fair skin, golden eyes and black hair.

The morph looked over at the man hailing him and shrugged, "Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

That was all the invitation Matthew needed to pull out a seat at the morph's table and plop himself down in it, "Was working over there last week, saw a guy who I swear looked just like you. Same eyes, same hair, even the same facial features." Holding his hand out to the morph, he introduced himself, "Maxim, by the way. Bounty-hunter."

The morph shook Matthew's hand, then nodded his own greeting, "James. So I have to ask, are you hunting bounties for the Prince or the King?"

_He's with the prince then._ Matthew had long since noted that grunts who ask that question always seem to put their side first. Making a mental note to write that information down later, he waved off the question, "Less of either one and more for the local guards, magistrates, people like that. I hunt criminals, not deserters."

"There good money in that?" James wondered aloud.

Matthew nodded, "Good enough, if you're fast and know how to bring your marks in alive." Amusingly enough, he had been doing a fair amount of completely legitimate bounty hunting work ever since adapting this guise. And as he was both fast and able to bring them in still breathing, the money was better then he expected it to be. Nowhere near his stipend from Ostia, but easily enough for a smart fighter to save up and retire early on.

"Hmm." James took a sip of his drink and considered that, "I may have to look into that myself after this bloody war is over. So..." he hesitated a minute, then asked the question Matthew was hoping to get, "Over in Tarmung you said? A man who looks like me?"

"Yeah," the spy nodded, "close enough that I thought you were him for a minute. You sound a little concerned, think there's something to it?" Normally he wouldn't push for that kind of information this soon into the conversation, but he'd discovered over the last few weeks that even the intelligent morphs weren't the sharpest knives on the rack.

"Might be," James nodded, taking the bait laid out for him, "I don't...well, this might sound crazy but I don't really remember much before about three weeks ago. Came to on the side of the road wearing half a uniform. I remember my name, and the folks here told me I had to be with the Prince's army, so I've just been going with that."

Honestly, it was so easy to get their stories out of them that Matthew was a little suspicious. _It's almost like they're SUPPOSED to be willing to talk about their pasts. Or lack thereof._ Still, he gave an understanding nod and offered some comforting words, "Not the first fighting man I've seen that happen to. One good crack in the wrong spot on your head can do funny things to your memory if it doesn't kill you."

"Sergeant Barnes said the same thing." James waved at the serving woman to let her know he wanted another mug, then smiled at Matthew, "Well, even if it turns out to be nothing, thanks for telling me about it. Maybe someone out that way will know where I'm from."

Matthew took that as a good opportunity to excuse himself from the conversation, easing up from the table and giving the morph a friendly nod, "Good luck with that. Anyway, I'm here on business so I ought to get to it." With that, he polished off his own drink, the cheapest and weakest ale the tavern served of course, and slid outside to go find a private place to review his notes.

Ever since he'd parted ways with Karel, Matthew had put Guy's situation out of his mind and gotten to work. Grant's notes about the morphs were fairly thorough, if scattered around the margins of the prayerbook, and Matthew was adding to them constantly. _Another one who thinks he's just an amnesiac. Makes the third of those I've run into. Two others knew they weren't human, but had no idea who their creator was or what their purpose was. They just knew they were supposed to go mingle with normal people for some reason._

Finding a good secluded spot, he pulled out the book and added his own observations from today's meeting. It was tempting to stick around longer and see what this James did with the information Matthew had given him. _I could find out who his officer is, then forge some orders for him to send some men to Tarmung. Follow along and see what happens when he meets the morph back there_. It was a tempting plan, especially considering the morph in Tarmung knew what he was, just not what he was supposed to be doing. Spying on that meeting might unveil some fairly nice information. James's reaction upon learning what he really was could be particularly informative.

It could be information he really needed, at that. For all the intelligence he was getting on the morphs themselves, it hadn't gotten him any closer to finding where they were coming from. Every one of them had a different story about where they first gained consciousness. Which meant whoever was making them was being cautious. _More evidence that it's actually not Nergal._ Matthew made a note of that thought in the book, _Nergal was never this careful, never covered his tracks that well. He was all about overpowering his problems, or just having minions assassinate them. This is too neatly planned, too well thought out._

Which, as far as he was concerned, made whoever this was considerably more dangerous in the larger picture then Nergal ever was. A brute, even a brute with incredible magical power, could be taken down once you knew what cards he had. Outmaneuver him to make him waste that power, or just figure out his limits and bring more force to bear yourself. _Between Grant and Lord Hector they did pretty fair jobs of both_.

But here Matthew was, playing chess against an opponent who's face he couldn't see, nor could he even know what pieces were on the board. _The advantage here is that he may not know exactly who he's up against either. If he's assuming Grant and Hector, that may leave me some openings. I'll pull stunts neither of them would even think of. _

_Of course_, the spy had to consider, _if he knows it's me here looking for him…_

Finishing with adding his notes for the day, Matthew got up and considered how best to get his hands on some official looking paper and ink. _Time to forge some orders._

* * *

The orders had passed muster, possibly due to the fact that Matthew had so many wonderful examples of Grant's handwriting to study, and the local unit was sending three men to Tarmung to receive further orders from the wyvern rider Bronson there. Who was, quite conveniently, one of the contacts Matthew was able to use to get messages to Dame Vaida.

Naturally, James had quickly volunteered for the mission. Now all that was left was for Matthew to get there ahead of him to brief Bronson on what orders he needed the man to give them. _Having access to some of Grant's resources is making this job a lot easier, that's for sure_.

So Matthew had left town in the middle of the night to get a head start on them. The fact that nobody would think it amiss for a bounty hunter to randomly check out of the inn he was staying at that hour made him really appreciate his current disguise. _Why didn't I think of this one sooner? I'm expected to be eccentric and keep strange hours. I'm supposed to ask people questions. I can slip a man some gold in broad daylight for information and nobody so much as blinks about it. _

The disguise did come with it's downsides though. Aside from the physical alterations like cutting his hair down to nearly shaved bald levels and wearing some boots with inserts that made him about two inches taller then normal(as well as concealing a small knife in the heel of each one. Those things were worth every last coin he paid for them), he had to make some sacrifices to maintain the deception. Such as engaging in more strenuous and dangerous work then the commerce he'd been doing as Norris. And fending off attempts to recruit or press him into one army or the other. Thankfully there had only been one of the latter attempts, and they had relented when he pulled his sword and told them at least two of them would die first. Which he was quite glad for, as it would have been more then two and he'd really rather not kill anyone on the Prince's side if he could help it.

He stopped at that thought and mentally corrected, _okay, almost anyone. _

It was roughly two and a half days as the soldier marched to Tarmung, so not only did Matthew have to leave earlier, but make sure that he covered as much or more ground then they did. And do it without ever letting them catch up and see him. James might be feeling like he had gotten a sudden run of good luck right now, but if he spotted Matthew heading the same way it would doubtlessly stretch right past coincidence and into conspiracy for all but the most trusting souls.

As he made good time down the road, he heard a rustling sound up ahead. Stopping and putting his hand on his weapon, Matthew took a few more cautious steps forward to try and see what might have made that noise in the dark.

Moments later he heard it again, and this time spotted the form of a large bird launching itself out of a tree. _That's normally a daytime bird. Something spooked it awake._

Slowly he drew his blade and approached the tree. Might have just been a wildcat or another bird. But it might not have been. As he got closer, he also scanned the entire nearby area for where any human shaped forms might have been concealed. He'd used the old throw a rock to startle a bird to distract someone trick more then once himself, so if that's what was going on he wasn't about to fall for it.

But once he got as close to the tree as he dared, he still couldn't see anything amiss. Sheathing his blade after a few moments, he shrugged and resumed his pace down the road. _I guess sometimes it really is just a bird._

* * *

As a pair of golden eyes watched the man continue down the path, the person those eyes belonged to slowly and quietly let out the breath they had been holding. The morph had been following the trail of a bounty hunter who had been asking too many questions. Imagine it's surprise when that very same bounty hunter suddenly went back down the road toward the town it had most recently trailed the man from.

_Strike now, or wait and see what he's up to?_ That was the question. Making a quick decision, the morph waited awhile longer to let the bounty hunter get some more distance before peeling itself up off the ground and slowly following, while thanking it's lucky stars the man hadn't noticed where it was hiding thanks to the mottled green cloak that blended so perfectly with the vegetation in the darkness. _Worth every last coin I paid for it…_

* * *

He arrived in Tarmung fairly late in the afternoon, but didn't wait even long enough to get himself a much belated lunch before hunting down rider Bronson to put his plot in motion.

Fortunately, the man was rarely hard to find. Not because he was particularly large or imposing, or even loud and flashy. In fact, Bronson was slim, usually quiet and a perfect gentleman(by Bernese standards at least). What made him easy to spot was his tendency to perch both himself and his wyvern on top of one of the larger buildings in town so he could keep a good eye on the place he was charged with protecting.

Noting the large shape of a wyvern sitting atop the town's church, the spy made his way over and waved to catch the attention of the man standing next to the beast.

Seeing the wave, Bronson looked down and recognized the man hailing him. Then in an impressive display of athleticism simply jumped down from the second story roof of the church, landing in an easy crouch, and walked over to the bounty hunter, "Maxim. You're back sooner then I expected, I assume you have a collection to put in?"

'Collection to put in' was the arranged code meaning 'message to send to Vaida', but Matthew couldn't quite say yes at the moment. _We don't really have a code for 'I need you're help first' so let's make something up and hope he's quick enough to figure it out_. Shaking his head, he tried to get his meaning across without seeming too obvious, "It's not an official bounty, but I've got something I think I can talk you into paying for. It's fairly time sensitive though, so the sooner we can negotiate a price the better."

Bronson eyed him wearily for a moment, before nodding, "I'll trust that you know better then to waste my time, so give me just a moment." Looking up, he whistled to get the attention of his mount and snapped out a command, "Ezekiel! Single patrol!"

Calling out his understanding of the order, the wyvern launched itself off the roof and began to do some slow laps of the town from the air.

Matthew watched the beast go and just shook his head, "Considering that the Prince has nearly twice as many of you wyvern riders as the king does, I'm not sure how you haven't won yet."

Bronson waved off the compliment, "We're good, but don't discount the foot. The king has a much larger mage corps as well. They can change the course of a battle just as quickly as we can. Regardless, you have an item to discuss? In private I assume?"

"Yeah, that would be best." Matthew nodded.

Bronson led the way to a guard house, where he asked the man on duty inside to give them some space and turned to his guest once they were alone, "Well, Maxim? Is this actually about a bounty or something else?"

Matthew chuckled, "I've got a report almost ready but I'll need some help to finish it. Is that man Clarence still with you? The one I asked you to keep an eye on?"

The rider nodded, "His unit's on road patrol right now. My second is in charge of the unit, so he's being monitored."

"Good enough. There's a trio of soldiers coming in, they should be here tomorrow, and I need one of them, James by name, to be put in contact with Clarence. It'll be easy to arrange as their orders are to report to you for more orders."

"I…suppose I can come with something for them to do. I don't really need any more men here at the moment though." Bronson gave the bounty hunter a measuring look before asking, "Who did these orders come from?"

The man wasn't aware of Matthew's real identity, just that he was a bounty hunter investigating something for Dame Vaida. Matthew didn't really want to clue him in too much, but figured he could pull something a bit in the middle, "They came from me. And yes, my taking this liberty will be included in my report to Dame Vaida. You can feel free to send your own report on it as well if you wish."

The simple matter-of-factness that Matthew delivered that with clearly caught Bronson by surprise. Suddenly the rider was measuring him up much more carefully and quietly asked, "Just who are you, really?"

Keeping his expression and voice completely level, Matthew responded with the line he hoped would best work on a soldier like the rider, "I'm sorry Rider, but you aren't cleared to know that."

"I...see. Can you at least tell me why those two men are so important?"

Matthew shook his head, "For your own safety as well as that of everyone under your command, no. Just believe me when I say the information gained from this is of vital importance."

The rider did not look comfortable, but eventually nodded his assent, "Then what exactly do you need?"

* * *

_So he did go back to Tarmung. Just as I thought. _Watching the city for a moment, the morph decided to step out of the woods and boldly as you please walk up to the guard at the gate.

The guard quickly hailed it, "Hold, traveler. I'll need your name and business before I let you in."

The morph shook its head, "I'm not actually heading in. I just wanted to know if the bounty hunter Maxim came through here?"

The guard frowned, "Maybe, maybe not. Who's asking?"

"I'm his partner." The morph easily lied, "Well, he's supposed to be here so either he already is or he will be soon. Can you tell him that I'll meet him at the northern checkpoint? I've got a lead, and I don't think it'll keep if I wait for him." Pulling a small pouch of coins out of its pocket, the morph tossed the pouch over its shoulder towards the guard as it turned to leave, "For your trouble."

Scrambling to catch the gold, the guard quickly opened the bag to see the contents then looked back up at the retreating form of the morph, "Hold on, I didn't get your…name." Sighing, the guard shrugged and made a note to pass along the message as he pocketed the money, "Yeesh, bounty hunters. No patience."

* * *

Bronson hadn't liked it, but he had made up some orders to get a wider patrol going around the town, explaining the need for a few extra soldiers. The ones already familiar with the area got assigned to the long patrol, while the new guys, as well as the ones who just got back in, were on city guard. It was a neat setup, cleanly putting the morphs James and Clarence in the same general area without being obvious about it.

Naturally it didn't take James long to seek out the man who looked like him. Nor was it hard for Matthew to quietly trail him and listen in to their conversation.

"So that's it," James finished explaining his situation to Clarence, "I've got no idea where I'm from or who I am besides my name and rank. I heard about a man here who looked enough like me to be mistaken for me and sort of hoped we were related or something."

Clarence didn't respond immediately. Matthew figured he was weighing his options, and was very interested to find out what he'd tell the man.

"I..." eventually Clarence started to speak and Matthew focused intently on what he was saying, "...can't say that I recognize you. The resemblance is impressive but I've never met you before. Sorry."

The inflections in his voice told Matthew that Clarence knew he was lying. _The question is why? Orders? Or out of kindness? That...could mean a lot, depending on the answer._

"Really?" James sighed, "I see. Sorry to bother you then. I was just hoping..."

"Don't blame yourself for hoping." Clarence quickly added, "I'm sure you'll find out where you belong someday. Just don't give up hope."

_Reassuring him?_ Matthew considered that for a moment. _It sounds like he just can't bring himself to tell the guy that he's not human. Kindness. What is going ON with these morphs?_

He stayed a bit longer, but the morphs didn't speak of anything else that seemed important. As he left, Matthew considered how best to interpret this new information. _Not as telling as I was hoping, but Grant will want to know about this either way. This entire situation doesn't make sense. Why are they being made? What's the purpose for sending them out without clear goals like this? I just don't get it_.

* * *

"Maxim. Bounty hunter." Matthew declared his name and purpose to the guard on his way out of town.

"Alright, you're good. Be careful on the road." The guard nodded routinely, then suddenly blinked and spoke up again, "Wait, Maxim? Hold on a moment sir, someone left a message here for you."

Matthew slowly turned to look at the guard, trying very hard not to betray the tension that simple statement made him feel, "Alright?" _A message? Who would leave a message for me here at the gate?_

The guard ducked back into the gatehouse for just a moment before coming back out with a small piece of paper, "It says here that your partner went ahead to the northern checkpoint and will meet you there."

_My WHAT?_ Matthew clamped down on his reaction to that, and just nodded at the guard, "Alright. Did you get a name?"

The guard raised an eyebrow, "You don't know your own partner's name?"

Matthew shook his head and easily lied, "There's two people I work with sometimes, if a mark is too dangerous for any one of us alone. I'd like to know which one I'm working with this time before I get there."

It was an entirely reasonable explanation, so the guard nodded, "Ah, alright. And..." he looked over the note again and shook his head, "sorry, no mention of a name."

"Does it say whether it was a man or a woman? Any description at all?" _Maybe I can at least get something out of this. _

"Nothing, no."

"Great." Mathew tried one last shot, "Is the guard who took the note on duty?"

The guard shook his head again, "He left on the new long patrol just this morning."

The irony was almost enough to make Matthew laugh. Seeing nothing else he could do at the moment, he thanked the guard for the message and began heading for the northern checkpoint. _So this is obviously a trap. The question is...who's springing it and can I turn it to my advantage?_

* * *

Matthew was by no means making good time towards the checkpoint. The ambush could come from any point along the way, so he kept an easy pace going and left one hand on or near his sword's hilt at all times. If there was one advantage he had in this, it's that whoever was setting this for him likely didn't know exactly what they were setting a trap for. _A clever enough fox can escape from the bear trap. _

Of course this was one fox who was practically loaded for bear. A silver sword, a long fighting knife on his belt, a small brace of throwing knives now worn openly strapped around his thigh, and the two hidden blades in the heels of his boots. And of course the weighted sap that no self respecting bounty hunter would be caught without.

If he'd hurried, he could easily have reached the checkpoint by nightfall. But that would leave him tired from a long day of fast movement, putting him at a clear disadvantage against the ambush. It would have also left him much less likely to notice anything that might have jumped him along the way. So it was that nightfall came...and he was only a little more then halfway there.

Time to find a place to sleep. After searching through the area carefully to make sure he was alone, Matthew found a tree a bit away from the path with sturdy enough branches to hold him, and climbed on up. Taking the rope out of his pack, he whipped up a makeshift hammock to give him a bit more support then just trying to sleep on a tree branch. It was adapted from an old trick some hunters used, lashing themselves to the tree or the branch so they couldn't fall in the night. It would have been more secure then the really bad hammock he made, but Matthew wanted to be able to bolt right out of the tree without having to untie himself first. Just in case.

After tying his pack to a different tree, the spy settled in to lightly nap through the night.

* * *

_He didn't pass my position, so he either didn't come or is taking it slow_. Either way it meant that the morph had to backtrack towards the town, keeping an eye out for its quarry along the way.

_A careful pace would have put him roughly in this area. Which is also an ideal place to bed down._ As the morph carefully checked through a denser clump of trees, it began to suspect that its mark was less of a bounty hunter being used to investigate a matter, and more of a professional spy playing bounty hunter as a cover. Aside from asking enough of the right questions to get its master's attention, the man had not been the easiest person to keep tabs on and responded to some things in the same way that the morph itself would have responded. And the morph knew that it was a professional. _Bounty hunter is a great cover, I have to admit. Entirely too obvious, which is why it works._

Catching sight of something just barely visible dangling from a tree, the morph froze in place and focused until it could make out the shape. It was pack, only half attached to the branch it was on. Studying it longer, the morph could guess that the straps had come loose in the night, it would have been impossible to see from this angle if it was still fully secured. _Gotcha._

* * *

Matthew hadn't exactly been getting much sleep that night. Even the slightest noises were waking him out of the catnapping state he slipped into. A night bird called. The wind made some leaves move. Crickets were too loud. Everything.

So he was mostly awake when a human shaped form slowly moved into view. He snapped fully to alertness, and froze in place. But the form wasn't looking at him. It was focusing on his pack, and slowly approaching to get a better look.

He resisted the urge to smile. _Gotcha._

Not daring to shift just yet, the spy waited until the figure got a little closer. Just two or three more steps. Then it would be in range, and he would have to strike before it noticed him.

The figure moved closer. One step. Two steps...three steps.

Exploding into action, Matthew kicked off of the tree trunk to launch himself out of the hammock and down at the figure below. Wordlessly he descended, managing to twist enough on the way down to deliver a hard kick to the figure on the way down, rolling backwards as soon as he fully hit the ground and pulling his long knife as he came up, ready to fight.

* * *

The morph heard the movement but not with enough time to evade the heavy kick that sent it sprawling into the brush. _Definitely not just a bounty hunter._

Springing back up, it rolled back as it did so, pulling a pair of short blades to defend itself with. With the first bit of fear it felt since starting this mission, the morph noted that Maxim had moved back from the attack as well, and was crouched into a very familiar looking fighting stance. _My usual tricks aren't going to work here._

* * *

_Assassin, huh?_ Matthew took note of the stance and the weapons pulled by his opponent and could only come to one conclusion. He wasn't overly surprised, but still didn't like it. Sure he had gotten the first blow it, but it wasn't a decisive one and nobody pulled two weapons at once in a real fight unless they knew how to use them. At first he thought for a terrifying moment that it might have been Jaffar, but aside from the fact that he wouldn't have made such an amateur mistake as falling for the decoy pack trick, the person before him was considerable smaller and more slender then the Angel of Death.

Carefully observing the other assassin, Matthew called out to try and put his attacker off of their game, "Don't suppose you'd mind telling me who you're working for before I kill you?"

The figure didn't respond, but he hadn't really been expecting them to. For now he just kept his guard up and waited, baiting the attack and gambling on keeping up his track record of reacting faster then anyone he'd fought against before.

* * *

"Don't suppose you'd care to tell me who you're working for before I kill you?"

The morph blinked. Not just at the banter, but..._that voice. It sounds so...familiar somehow. _

Sizing its target up, the morph did not care for what it saw. _He's waiting for me because he knows I'm at a disadvantage. I have to kill him to win, he only has to survive. If I don't attack he'll just run away. _

Not seeing another option, it moved in.

* * *

The assassin began to move towards him and Matthew carefully watched the movements. _Two ways to attack with two weapons. Either a striking blade and a parrying blade, or both striking blades. So which are you?_ The stance, the grip, how they approached, these all gave him clues to the answer to that question before he would have to learn it the hard way.

He had one more way to get a clue as well. Letting the assassin get just a touch closer, Matthew quickly pulled a throwing knife with his free hand and hurled it at his attacker.

Quickly the enemy pulled one of their knives down and slashed it out of the air.

_One and one then_. Matthew wasn't too pleased to see that. Thanks to Jaffar and Dart, he had a bit more familiarity with the full on attacking style and knew how to counter it better. Leila had known a bit about one and one though, so he quickly tried to remember what she had taught him so very long ago. _Parry and counter from the striking blade's side. Don't forget to watch the parrying blade, ignore it too long and they will stab you with it. Watch for stance switches, if they're good they can change which blade is which_.

_Suppose I should test that one_. Quickly changing strategies, Matthew drew another throwing knife and dashed forward, hurling it as he went.

Again the assassin's left hand blade parried the thrown weapon, but Matthew came in right behind, attacking from the side of the blade that wasn't used to parry. His initial slash was fast, quick enough to score a small slice along the arm, but the enemy retreated a couple of steps and easily shifted their stance, parrying Matthew's second and third slashes with the right hand blade.

Having gotten his answer, Matthew threw his momentum to the side and rolled away from the assassin, neatly dodging their counterattack.

* * *

As the morph's blade touched only air, it realized what had just happened and mentally swore. _He was TESTING me! That son of a whore was just provoking me to see my style! I'm...completely outclassed here. _

It wanted to run. To just abandon the mission and bolt. But it didn't think it would get a second chance to fight this Maxim on even a remotely even footing. Next time, before the morph could ambush him again, he would hunt it down first. The fight would be in a place of his choosing. And he would win.

But the Creator had made it very clear that there would be no future if this mission was failed. It had to stay and fight this out.

Desperate to win, the morph launched itself at the fake bounty hunter, both blades aiming to strike in an attempt to catch him off guard by switching styles entirely.

But this wasn't the morph's style. The blades didn't swing in at the same time, giving Maxim time to block the first one with his blade. The shock of the impact rattled the morph, causing the second blade to lose some momentum. It hit, scoring near the shoulder of his free arm, but the blow was weak. Edge instead of point, and he had his cloak to cushion the impact.

Unfortunately for the morph, the slice did not seem to steal any of Maxim's strength. And he was already both larger and stronger. With incredible speed and surprising force, he grabbed her by one arm and spun, using her own forward momentum to spin her and slam her back into a tree.

In a flash his knife was at her throat...and he stopped, eyes suddenly gone wide.

* * *

The assassin had made another amateur mistake, attacking like that when they should have waited. But his excitement at getting a clear chance to end this so quickly was short lived. For as he slammed the enemy up against a tree, her hood was shaken loose, and even in the dark he could clearly see her face.

He knew that face. He had seen it daily for years. He saw it even still in his dreams and nightmares. The hair was black instead of red, the eyes gold rather then brown, and the skin was entirely too pale. But the features were perfect. There was no mistaking it.

It was her.

_No..._ Matthew fought the feelings welling up inside of him. _NO! Not her, it's not her! Just a morph, a puppet with her face!_

But for all his protests, his body wouldn't move. He couldn't strike her again. He couldn't harm someone with that face.

He could not kill the thing that looked like Leila.

His arm went slack, and the knife dropped from his hand...

* * *

She had no idea what was going on. One moment she thought she was seconds from death, the next he went slackjawed and dropped his weapon.

But something about his strange action stirred a feeling inside of her. _His face? Why does that look familiar? ...nevermind that, this is my chance!_

Shaking it off, she quickly took action. Dropping down and pulling out of his weakened grip, the morph swept her legs out, knocking Matthew to the ground.

* * *

Matthew hit the ground hard. Instinctively he tried to spring up and move away, but the morph was faster and stayed on him, quickly tripping him again and straddling him before he could try to roll away again.

Despite the situation, he almost laughed. _She always was better at ground work then me_.

He wanted to be angry. Outraged that the enemy would dare use her face. But he couldn't muster the energy. All he felt was numb. Beaten. The enemy knew who he was and sent the one thing that Matthew could never beat. He could try to escape, but what was the point? She'd find him again. And he wouldn't be any more able to kill her later then he was now. Now that he could see her, he couldn't even bring himself to strike at all. _How do you win without attacking? I don't know. I'm not Guy_.

The morph who looked like Leila dropped one of her knives so she could use the other hand to pin his right arm and raised her other knife high. _Here it comes. Sorry Lord Hector, this was all I could do._ He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the final blow descending. As he waited for the strike, all he could think was, _Leila's going to kill me for letting some copy of her finish me off._

* * *

She held the knife poised high, ready to plunge down into the chest of her target. One blow would finish it, her mission would be complete. Matthew was helpless, he wasn't even trying to fight back.

So why was she hesitating?

_Wait...Matthew?_ Why had that name come into her mind? _His name is Maxim, isn't it?_

Looking down into the face of the man she was told to kill...she couldn't swing her weapon. She knew that she had never met this man before, but at the same time...there was something so familiar. His voice. His face. She...she had looked down into that face before. Just like this, sitting straddled across him while half pinning him to the ground. _Only then..._

She almost blushed. The thoughts, the feelings, something unbidden was rising inside of her. She couldn't hurt him. She felt like stabbing herself in sheer guilt from even trying to.

Slowly lowering her weapon, the morph numbly waged an inner battle between her duty and her feelings. It wasn't a very long battle, her orders were doomed from the start.

Quietly she spoke, needing answers and hoping he could help provide them, "Ma...Matthew? Is that your name?"

* * *

The killing blow he was waiting for never came. Was she toying with him? It was bad enough that he could feel her. That with his eyes closed it was all too easy to remember things he had been trying so hard not to think of ever since the dread isle. _Just get it over with already._

But she didn't strike. Instead she did the last thing he ever wanted her to do. She said his name, "Ma...Matthew? Is that your name?"

The voice was perfect. She even sounded just like Leila. It was too much for him.

Anger, depression, loss and longing all mixed within him, becoming something he couldn't quite describe. Frustrated he half snapped at the morph sitting atop him, "You win, alright? You and your master both. I can't fight you. I just...can't."

All was quiet for a moment, until he heard the sound of something being dropped. He opened his eyes to see that she had let go of her weapon. Unable to stop himself, he looked up into her face.

Tears were filling her eyes as she stared down at him, and in a sobbing whisper replied, "Then we have a problem. Since...I can't fight you either."

* * *

She let her weapon go. She couldn't put a finger on what or why, but the fact was undeniable. She was in love with the man she was told to kill, and she couldn't explain how. It was something that came from a deeper part of herself then she had known existed. Memories that she had never lived through. She had existed for less then a month at this point, the Creator had told her that she was created for the express purpose of killing this man.

So why? Did he give her these memories? Did he make her love her target?

Shaking her head, she reluctantly moved off of his lap and slumped up against a tree. Looking at him slowly sitting up as well, she asked again, "You never answered my question. Are you Maxim? Or Matthew? I need to know. Please."

He looked at her. Eyes roiling with emotion, some of it clearly hatred and disgust. It hurt her so much to be looked at like that. After a moment he spoke again, "You don't already know?"

"No!" She protested, "I was told to kill a bounty hunter named Maxim. That you...he was asking too many questions. But when I saw your face I remembered a name. Matthew. I've never heard it before but I know it and I don't know why and I'm confused and I'm supposed to kill you but I can't because I think I love you and..." she started nervously laughing, "and I'm babbling."

* * *

He had no idea what to feel. It wasn't her, just a morph made in her image. But she didn't only look the part, she sounded just like Leila. She talked like Leila. She had her mannerisms, the way she slumped against the tree, the way she babbled on then called herself on it. It was just like her.

And she just said that she loved him.

Part of him wanted to close his eyes again. Pretend it was really her. Pull her into his arms, kiss her and try to sooth that gaping wound in his heart. Part of him wanted to get up and run away, get as far away from this terrible and perfect mimicry of his love as he could.

All of him wanted to violently and messily slaughter the person who made her.

"Matthew." He finally forced himself to answer, "My name is Matthew."

"Matthew." She repeated his name and it felt like someone coating a dagger with elixir before twisting it in his heart. It was the sweetest sound he could ever hear and it made him want to scream in a primal anguish.

He didn't say anything though. He didn't know what would come out if he opened his mouth again.

"You know, don't you?" She seemed more then happy to fill the silence for him, "why I feel like this? How I know you? Please, tell me. I need to know."

_What do I say? How can I tell a woman that she was made in the image of my dead lover probably for the sole purpose of tormenting me?_ Taking a deep breath, he tried to find his voice, to tell her something at least. "You...are a morph. Do you know that much? And...what's your name? I need a different name to think of you by."

She nodded, "Yeah, I do. And...the Creator called me Lilac."

* * *

"Lilac." He said her name, almost as if experimenting with it. She couldn't help but smile as he did. Somehow it sounded a thousand times more lovely when it came from him.

"You..." he tried to continue and stopped, sighing. A few more times he opened his mouth to start, then closed it again. She didn't rush him. She needed to know, but she could tell he was trying to think of how to say it.

"You were made," Matthew finally managed to go explain, "in the image of the woman I love. Who died, killed by someone who was working for the man who made morphs."

"That would explain why you recognized me." Lilac nodded, but knew that still didn't answer her question, "but it doesn't explain why I know you."

"I can't explain that one." Matthew shook his head, "I know how you have her looks. Her voice. But...why you talk like her. Why you move and act like her. Why you feel the way she would feel. I don't know that." His voice took on a hard edge, "This creator of yours, all I can think of is that he made you like this on purpose. But how he would know what she would feel...I can't even begin to guess."

"It's something at least," Lilac found herself trying to comfort him, "somehow he gave me more then just her image. We just don't know the how." She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that. Frankly she wasn't either. But the only person who would know how was the Creator, so there wasn't any use dwelling on it.

Changing the subject slightly, she asked one question she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to, but had to ask anyway, "What was her name?"

"Leila," Matthew answered after a long moment, "her name was Leila."

She nodded. When he said that name...it stirred feelings as well. She wouldn't mind being called by that name, it felt like it belonged to her just as much as Lilac did. She had to know more. Though she could see that it would hurt him to tell her, she had to ask him. _I have to know who I am._

"Tell me about her?"

* * *

Such a simple request, but it twisted that knife a few more notches. "No..." Matthew protested immediately, looking at anything but her, "please don't ask me that. You have no idea how much this hurts already. I don't want to talk about her, especially not to you."

"You aren't the only one hurting here." Lilac responded, sounding exactly like Leila when she was irritated, "unless you think that seeing the person I love looking at me like I'm some kind of demon that he doesn't know whether to kiss or stab feels like rainbows and fuzzy bunnies."

He couldn't help himself. He laughed, "Dammit you even have her sense of humor."

"Please Matthew, I have to know who I am."

"You're not..." he started, but she cut him off.

"And don't even try to say that I'm not her! Parts of me are, you keep saying it yourself." He still wasn't looking at her, but her voice sounded desperate. He could almost imagine the tears in her eyes. "I need to know how much. I need to know who she was, so I can figure out who I am."

He couldn't really argue that one. She had a right to know. _A right?_ Matthew tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings, _I'm thinking about her like she's a person. But...she's not. She's just a puppet. Right?_

Forcing himself to look back at her, he saw her face. She was looking at him, waiting for him to speak, searching for something in his eyes. It wasn't the face of a puppet. Her face was expressive, alive. Not the face of one of the near mindless fighting morphs Nergal threw at them by the horde. _She isn't Leila. But...she's still real._

"Alright." Matthew finally had to agree, and he tried so hard not to smile at seeing her face brighten. "But I still have a job to do. I'll tell you about Leila. But you have to tell me everything about your creator. Including where to find him, if you know."

Her face clouded for a moment. He could see her struggling with that demand, loyalty warring with curiosity. But eventually she nodded, "You rip your heart out, I betray my Creator. Sounds like a fair trade."

Matthew snickered, "Dammit woman, stop being funny."

* * *

As he started to talk, Lilac listened intently, hanging on every word. Much of what he told her, she both remembered and didn't at the same time. The events weren't real to her, she never went to Ostia, she didn't save Marquis Caelin. But the feelings were. As Matthew described Ostia it felt like home. As he spoke of Leila rescuing the Marquis she was relieved that he was safe. When he mentioned Lord Uther's death she wanted to cry.

She asked so many questions, until the sun rose and they were still talking. It was a lot to take in, but slowly it answered her biggest question. _I'm not Leila. But I want the same things she wanted._

"Thank you." She smiled at Matthew, hoping he felt more at ease around her now.

"So," he asked, "did that help you decide who you are?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and slid over so she was sitting next to him. He flinched a bit as she got closer, but she couldn't blame him too much. _Maybe...it'll get easier with time?_ "I'm Lilac, not Leila. But...I still have a lot in common with her. And..." She took the chance and slowly took Matthew's hand in hers, "I don't want to try and be her. Or take over her life. But the parts of me, the feelings that came from her, are still mine. And I don't want to just ignore them."

He squeezed her hand, and for a moment she felt hopeful. But then he pulled his hand away from her, "I...can't. I believe you, that what you feel about me is real for you. But I love Leila. Not you."

"Then get to know me." Lilac wasn't giving up that easily. "Don't think of me as a copy of her, pretend I'm...I dunno, her long lost twin sister that she never told you about."

Matthew laughed, "I think that would make it more awkward."

"Really?" she grinned, "I thought all guys had that fantasy at some point."

He chuckled again, "It wouldn't be fair to you either. If you went back to Ostia I'm not the only person who you'd make uncomfortable, maybe to the point of flat out never trusting you. That's if someone didn't decide that you were really an enemy and just using Leila's appearance to subvert me. You wouldn't be safe there."

"Will someone like me really be safe anywhere?" She countered, unwilling to let it go yet, "I don't exactly have any skills that don't involve putting myself in danger. And I think we could convince Lord Hector and the other important people after awhile. Or we could just go somewhere else. If you asked to be released, I don't think anyone would argue that you've earned it."

"It's not just that, either." Matthew wasn't letting his position go either, "I couldn't be fair to you. Even if I give you what you want, I won't see you. Just her. You deserve better then that."

"For now." Lilac pressed the point, "In time you'd see me, especially as I learn more about who I am and become less of Leila and more myself. Maybe there isn't much of me there now, but I've only been alive for a month."

"A month?" Matthew looked half stunned, then tried to recover with a joke, "Well that settles it. There's laws against that sort of thing."

Lilac laughed, "I didn't know you cared so much about the law."

With a groan, he slumped his head down in defeat, "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Comes with being female." Even as she joked, she had to admit to herself that she wasn't entirely sure of everything she said. _Can it really work? I don't know, but...I want to try. _

* * *

It was morning and Matthew hadn't slept all night. He was exhausted, emotionally drained and considerably more vulnerable then he wanted her to realize. When she had taken his hand, he almost pulled her into his lap. He wanted her so very badly. Except it wasn't her he really wanted. It was a woman who looked just like her.

But Lilac was so much like her in all the right ways. He knew it was a bad idea to talk about Leila, but he hadn't been able to refuse. It just opened up all those old memories. All the reasons he loved her. So many of the qualities that made him fall in love were right here in front of him again. It was like something out of a twisted fairy tale, a very bizarre second chance at a lost love.

Which was exactly why he had to refuse her. As the night had gone on, he started to like this woman. Even if it was because of her resemblance to Leila, he liked her too much to use her like a replacement.

But she had an answer for that. Given time, would it really be Leila he saw when he looked at her? Or was that part of what scared him, the idea that he could ever come to love someone else?

Looking to the sky, Matthew thought about the woman he had loved. _Leila. What would you want me to do?_

He knew her well enough that when he honestly thought about it, it didn't take him long to realize the answer. _First, finish the mission. Then...she'd want someone to make sure Lilac was taken care of. It's not her fault she was made like that. And..._ he had to come face to face with the one fact he had been avoiding since Valor. _She would want me to move on and try to be happy._

Perhaps the exhaustion was the only thing that let him make the decision he came to, but he made it all the same. "I get the feeling that I won't win any more arguments with you then I ever did with her."

"Probably less if I have anything to say about it," Lilac quipped and smiled.

"Alright, against my better judgment, I'll give you a chance. I can't just leave you on your own without any friends or contacts, so I'd need to stick with you for a bit anyway. But..."

Lilac took his hand again, and this time he didn't pull it away, "If it doesn't stop being too painful for you, or if you decide you don't like the person I become, then I'll go."

"That isn't what I was going to say, but thanks." Matthew had to smile. He was already seeing some differences. Leila liked to play coy, while Lilac was much more expressive and forward. "What I was going to say, was that the mission still comes first. I need to know everything you know about your creator. Does he have a name? Is he a human or a morph? Why is he making all these morphs and sending them out to do mundane things? Where is he making them at?"

Lilac nodded, "Right. He...well, I don't know him as anything other then the Creator. If he has a name, he didn't give it to me. I...think he is a morph. He has golden eyes at least, and I know what our physical traits are. I don't know why he made anyone other then me, the only mission I was told about was my own. And...I was made and sent out from a place called Fallen Giant Pass. I don't know if he's still there, though."

Matthew took all that in and tried to give it some thought. But his thoughts kept turning back to her, "You don't have a problem telling me all of that? You do know I might kill him, right? You aren't magically loyal to him or anything like that?"

She shook her head, "I...feel a bit awkward betraying the man who gave me life, but other then that, no. And I'm more then a little upset with him for making me like this then telling me to kill you or be terminated if I fail. But...he is still the person who created me, so if you can settle things with something besides killing him I'd feel a lot better." Then she shrugged, "But if it comes down to you or him, do what you have to."

The mere thought that this creator had threatened to destroy Lilac if she didn't kill him only made Matthew want to messily end him more. But he clamped that down and nodded, "If he has something to say, I'll listen. I need answers from him anyway. But if he turns out to be the second coming of Nergal, then I'm taking him down."

"I hope you aren't planning on going anywhere today though." Lilac moved in closer and leaned up against his side, pulling her large cloak over the both of them, "We were up all night, you need to get some rest."

He wanted to hold her tightly and pull away all at once. Instead he settled for only putting one arm around her and nodding, "Yeah."

As he leaned back and felt her warmth beside him, Matthew did something he very rarely found cause to do. He prayed. _St._ _Elimine in heaven, please let her be innocent and not some kind of horrible trap. I don't know if morphs are people to you but...please look after her if something happens to me. And tell Leila I may be longer then I thought I would be._

Elimine didn't answer of course. He imagined she rarely if ever did. But still, for once, he felt better for the asking.

* * *

_Author's note: So here is what I think may be my longest chapter yet and it's the second of a two parter. I've realized a few things with this chapter though. Mainly that Karel is possibly the third most important character in the story, driving a large part of the development for both Guy(planned) and Matthew(unplanned). Secondly that the story is occassionally going to go where it feels like going regardless of what my original intent may have been. Whether that's for good or ill...well, I guess time will tell, hmm? Thirdly that I apparently find writing much easier when I'm not at home on my own computer, but using a laptop in some public place. Which would explain why this one is up early!_

_Also, if any of you saw this coming and figured out who the morph was before I started using "she" instead of "it" then give yourself a cookie and get the hell out of my head._


	17. Guy: Sword's Oath

Chapter 15: Sword's Oath

Guy watched with a bit of amusement as Cauld and Terrace, two of the former Quickblades who had joined the Badgers after their captain's death, released the leaves on the wind and tried to cut them down.

Terrace's technique was frankly horrible, though considering the young archer had only recently taken to learning the sword, it was better then it could be. Needless to say, all three leaves escaped his swing without suffering so much as a scratch. He wasn't even able to chase forward fast enough to get in reach of them before he swung.

Cauld on the other hand managed to nick one. It wasn't a clean cut, but it touched the leaf and Guy could tell from watching that it wasn't just an accident of the wind.

Giving both men a nod, Guy offered them a constructive critique, "Terrace, you need to be faster. Work on your sprinting before you try this again. You know the bow, you know how fast an arrow flies. Be faster. Work on getting your speed up before you work on technique. And if we get called to real battle, bring your sword but I want you staying with the bow for now."

The boy nodded, accepting the lesson without complaint or pride. Terrace was a good kid, hard working, earnest, eager to please. He reminded Guy of Priscilla in some ways, now that he thought about it. _Priscilla...I haven't thought about her in a long time. Heh, guess it was just a boy's crush after all._

"Cauld..." Guy looked over at the other former 'blade who he worked with, "that actually wasn't bad at all. You're on the right track, just keep it up. You didn't quite have the third leaf in reach though, so pick up the speed a bit as well. And remember you can't swing at where they're at, you have to know how long it takes your sword to move and swing at where they will be."

"Not bad?" Cauld practically sputtered, "I barely touched the damn thing!"

"You're still new at this." Guy shrugged.

"New?" the hotheaded young man snorted, "I've been using a sword for six years you know. I should be better then this. I should be more then just half a step better then the bloody archer."

If there were two things Guy had learned about Cauld, it's that he was a perfectionist on the battlefield and a shameless womanizer off of it. He tried not to be around the man off the field, but the perfectionism was serving him well in training...when it wasn't causing him to expect himself to be better then he could possibly be yet. Shaking his head, Guy corrected the man's statement, "You have been using a sword for six years. You have been learning the sword for less then six weeks. As far as the sword is concerned, the only advantage you have over Terrace is being in better shape to use it. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he was doing better then you, as he has nothing to unlearn. Keep all that in mind and you're doing fairly well."

Cauld stopped to think about that, which is exactly what Guy wanted him to do. _He's got the makings of a great swordmaster someday. Hope he doesn't get killed first._

"Um, mast…er, um, Guy?" Terrace spoke up quietly, "The vice-captain wanted you for the patrol going out tonight, you wanted me to remind you when it was getting late."

Guy nodded, "Thanks." Over the past few weeks he had to practically beg Terrace not to call him Master Guy in the lessons. He was technically their teacher and thus deserving of the address, but being called master by anyone made him uncomfortable. Especially by men who were only a bit younger then he was. "You two keep practicing for a bit. No leaves, just work on your forms and sprints. Especially the sprints, speed is what will keep you alive in battle."

His two students nodded and got back to practicing as he turned to go. Leaving them to their work, he turned his thoughts to the job ahead. _Aerie must be expecting trouble to want me, her and Nik all out together. That's less of a patrol and more of a strike team._

* * *

The sun was just beginning to go down as Guy, Aerie and Nikras left the camp too out on a late patrol. Night patrols, rather then just a night watch, were something the Badgers had been able to start doing after nearly doubling their numbers from taking it the remaining Quickblades. Branta had been a bit skeptical that they were a good use of manpower, but Nikras assured him they would turn something up before long and the hero was seasoned enough for Branta to let him try it. Out of all the former 'blades, Nikras was easily their best new recruit, and a fair bet for officially replacing Aerie as the vice-captain if something should happen to her.

Not that Guy wanted to think about that possibility at all.

"Alright..." Aerie came to a stop and turned to the two men with her, "I think we're out far enough."

Nikras nodded, "Right. So...what's this really about then?"

Guy blinked, caught entirely off guard by Nik's blunt question, "Huh?"

The blond man gave him a level stare, "Think about it. With Branta still not back to perfect health, we're the three best fighters in the company. Taking all three of us out is more then just a patrol, but we didn't take enough medical supplies for this to be a strike. Something unusual is up."

Aerie nodded in return, "You're absolutely right, something is up. And...I'm afraid the patrol is a pretense, yes. Guy, I know how you feel about that, but..."

He waved the concern off, "It's fine. What's the problem?" Frankly he was just glad that she remembered the Sacaen honor, even if she couldn't hold to it here.

"We received a message this morning from the Prince's forces. It's..." Aerie trailed off a bit.

"Not good news then." Nikras sighed, "Just how much trouble are we in?"

"A lot. A whole lot. See..." Aerie took a deep breath and forced herself to deliver the news, "the king is dead."

Guy blinked, "Uh...isn't that good news for us? With the king dead, the war should be over soon. ...right?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes." Nikras agreed, "But as this is being considered bad news, I doubt it's anything that could be considered normal."

"Right again," Aerie nodded, "The prince poisoned the king. Assassination. Under the pretense of a peace talk, no less."

Guy blinked at her in dumb shock while Nikras just buried his head in his hands.

"That was about Branta and my reactions, yes." Aerie found a place to sit down and slumped up against a tree, "This is going to change basically everything."

"Scratch the basically." Nikras groaned, "This is going to cause chaos."

"...why?" Guy shook off his shock and questioned the strangeness of the action, "this is actually exactly what I've come to expect from Bernese nobles. Most Lycian nobles, too. Do your people honestly not know how selfish and wretched their leaders usually are?"

"That's exactly the problem, Guy." Aerie shook her head, "We know too damned well. The Prince was supposed to be our new beacon of hope. He was supposed to change all of that. He was supposed to be better then his father, better then the old nobility. But now..."

As she trailed off, Nikras finished the thought for her, "We were the good guys. Zaki didn't hire on for the prince because he paid more. Hells man, the king's men offered us nearly half again what Prince Zephiel's forces could. He sighed the Quickblades on to the side he thought was right. But now that's gone. If the prince engages in assassination, if he falls into the old patterns..."

"Then there are no good guys." Guy finished as he understood the point. To be honest, he was feeling it himself as well. _Grant...he'd never do something like that. I can't imagine Vaida would either, too much pride. The prince had to do it without their approval. _

"So," Nikras spoke up again, asking a question Guy was curious to as well, "why take us out just to deliver this news? You can't be planning on hiding it from the others?"

Aerie shook her head, "No, we're not. Branta just wanted the leaders of the group, such as we are, to know first. So we can stay in control and present a unified front to the others when we break the news. Otherwise we might be facing desertion from some."

"Not that I could blame them." Guy shrugged. "It's going to be harder for me to care about fighting the prince's enemies now."

"How much longer is our contract for?" Nikras got right to the important questions.

"End of the year. If Branta doesn't like what he sees from here on, we take our money and walk after that. And at that point, any individual member of the company is free to do the same whether or not the company renews contract."

"We'll just need to hold it together until then." Nikras nodded, "Cauld and Terrace should follow Guy's lead. Lem and Dastan should follow mine."

"And I'm the moral case in the core Badgers, the twins are pretty pragmatic." Aerie pointed out, "So the three of us should be able to keep things from dissolving until the contract runs out."

"I trust Branta will be making it very clear that's what the plan is?"

"Yeah," Aerie confirmed, "The official stance here is that we're not breaking contract, but the prince and his people have until years end to prove this was a fluke or some rogue operative or something. That this isn't how Zephiel is going to run the country. If we still don't like what we see by then, we leave."

"That should work." Nikras nodded, then asked, "but some will want to know where exactly we'd leave to if it came to it. All of my people are from Bern, and I know most of you are as well."

"Lycia." Guy spoke up, surprising both of the heroes, "We go to Lycia. Marquis Ostia or Marquis Caelin would hire the whole company on my recommendation." Guy didn't exactly like mentioning his connections to powerful people. He understood enough that it would make some of his teammates very uncomfortable...and it honestly made him a bit self conscious as well, but right now was the best time to bring it up.

Aerie and Nikras just stared at him, until Nik finally managed to ask, "Just who the hell ARE you?"

"I helped Lord Hector kill a dragon. Along with Marquis Caelin's granddaughter and her husband. They weren't married then though, that happened later." Guy just blurted out the ridiculous sounding, but entirely true, statement as simply as he could.

Nikras just stared at him again, while Aerie gave him a more irritated glare and accused, "You have stories like this and you never shared them? Come on Guy, I thought we were your friends now? We are having a long talk later."

Nik raised an eyebrow at Aerie, "You...believe all that?"

"The proud people of Sacae tell no lies," she repeated the well known phrase. "And besides, Guy's nowhere near imaginative enough to make things like that up. It has to be true."

"…uh, thanks." Guy wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that endorsement, "I think."

Nik just shook his head in disbelief, "Right. Next you'll be telling me you were the best man at the granddaughter's wedding. "

Guy laughed, "Well..."

* * *

After making it back to camp, Aerie went to report the 'results' of the patrol to the captain while Guy just went back to his tent and crawled in. He couldn't sleep though, not with what he had just learned.

_Kind Desmond assassinated. Was it the prince's order? Couldn't be Grant's, but he might have other people working for him who'd do it. But...no matter who did it, it'll make Prince Zephiel look bad._ Guy frowned at the thought. He had met the prince before, helped to save him from the Black Fang even. He seemed like a nice enough guy back then, like a younger Lord Eliwood. Guy didn't really want to believe that he helped save someone who'd turn out to be corrupt.

As he lay there thinking, someone scratched on the door flap of his tent, and Aerie's voice quietly called, "Hey, you asleep yet?"

Sitting up, Guy pulled the flap open, "Not yet. Something else going on?"

Aerie shook her head, "No, just wanted to talk about stuff. Can I come in?"

Guy considered the size of his tent. It was basically built for one. Two people could sit in there...if they didn't mind sitting very close. "Uh...there's not really much room in here..."

"My tent's not any bigger and we can't talk around the others right now." Aerie countered.

"Um..." he had to admit she had a point. And he did have another question that had been gnawing at him about the whole assassination mess. So he nodded and scooted over as much as he could, "alright."

Aerie crawled in and closed the tent flap behind her, so it was rather dark in there. Guy was glad for that, since he was fairly sure he had started blushing as she brushed against him on her way in. It was the first time a girl had ever been in his tent, after all. Even if they were just there to talk.

"So..." Aerie whispered conspiratorially, "you killed a dragon? A REAL dragon?"

Guy nodded...then remembered she probably couldn't see that right now and said, "Yeah. Well...it was Lord Hector that did the killing. I drew some fire from it though. Literally, it breathed fire at me. Then Armads came down on it's head like a ton of rocks and it stopped breathing anything."

"Armads?" Aerie asked.

"Uh...some legendary magical axe that Sage Athos gave to Lord Hector right before the last fight there."

"How on earth did you get mixed up in something like that anyway?"

Thinking about how exactly he came to be in that army in the first place, Guy had to admit the answer was about as ridiculous as everything else about that war. "Originally? By getting fed by a thief."

"…what?"

Guy laughed at her bewildered tone, "It's a really long story."

"Promise to tell me the whole thing sometime?"

"Um..." he was starting to become very conscious of just how close she was to him, since he could feel her breath as she talked. It was making him a bit uncomfortable. And not in the sense that wanted her to leave. It didn't help that talking about the war brought up some memories he didn't care for. "…uh, sure."

"Are you okay?" she sounded concerned, and Guy realized his embarrassment at being this close to her and the subject matter must have been carrying over into his voice.

"Uh, yeah. It's..." he sighed, fortunately having a perfectly honest answer for her as well, "well, it's just something I don't like to talk about since it's got some bad memories and it feels strange to just mention people like Lord Hector and Lyn...er, Lady Lyndis, like I'm friends with them or something."

"Aren't you? If you fought together, especially with something that major, you probably should be."

"Well..." Guy hesitated a bit, unsure of how to answer that one. Eventually he settled on, "Lyn probably. She's Sacaen too, so I can relate to her pretty well. Maybe a couple others too? But the army was pretty big, and I...was a lot more shy back then. So I didn't really get close to many people."

"Wait..." Aerie laughed, "you were MORE shy before? Wow. That's impressive, in a kind of sad way."

Guy winced a bit a the barb. Socialization was never his strength, so it wasn't exactly an unfair shot, but it stung a bit all the same.

After he didn't respond for a bit, Aerie softened her voice and said, "...sorry. I keep forgetting you don't handle teasing well. It's just in my nature, so..." she sighed, "no, I'm making excuses. Sorry."

"It's alright," Guy reassured her, "you're just trying to lighten the mood. I've figured that much out by now. Uh, anyway," he changed the subject to the question he'd been sitting on, "something's been bothering me about the news, the assassination and all."

"Just one thing?" Aerie asked a bit sarcastically.

"Okay, lots of things, but one I can't quite figure out."

"What is it?"

"Well," Guy asked, "if the king's dead...even if people won't approve of the way it happened, why is the war still going?"

"Precisely because of how it was done," Aerie answered, "the king's retainers can use this action as an excuse to claim the prince shouldn't inherit the throne, and have some weight behind it. The king's generals and advisors will want to continue the war, kill the prince, and then have one of them claim the position as the new king. Assassinating the king gives them the leverage to do that and get the troops behind them for it."

"...they'll turn the king into a martyr." It was so obvious Guy wondered how he didn't see it before.

"Exactly. And if they spin it well enough, we risk mass defections from our side. King Desmond was a bastard, and probably tried to assassinate Prince Zephiel more then once already, but dead people have a tendency to have all those negative traits overlooked."

"I wonder..." a horrible thought started mulling over in Guy's head, possibly from having spent too much time around Matthew before.

"What?" Aerie asked.

"Well," he laid out the thought, "it sounds like the king being dead puts his army in a better position. I wonder if he wasn't killed by one of his own men, just to gain that upper hand."

Aerie was silent for a bit, before spitting out a curse, "Light be damned, you might be right. God above that would be a wretched move. But...how can we tell if it was or not?"

Guy sighed, "Well...Dame Vaida was also in that war. She was there when we fought the dragon too. If I could get her a letter, she could probably tell us. Or...if I could get a letter to Grant, who's working for the prince as a tactician right now. Grant would be the better idea, actually."

"...seriously? You know Dame Vaida? Personally?" Aerie laughed, "Come on, who else do you know? The king of Etruria?"

"Not the king," Guy admitted, " Just Lord Pent, the mage general."

"Is that a joke?"

"No, he was in the war too."

"You really need to tell the captain this stuff. If you could write a letter to someone in a high position in the prince's council and actually expect an answer, that might help a lot."

"I..." Guy sighed, "Okay. Tomorrow."

"You really don't like talking about it, do you?" Aerie asked gently.

"It feels like bragging," Guy nodded, "I try not to do much of that anymore."

"Well..." Aerie suggested, "maybe a little bit of bragging is a good idea sometimes. Only a little bit, though. Don't turn into the twins."

"Heh," Guy laughed at the thought of trying to act like Noah and Teal. It was completely absurd, "no fear of that."

"I tell you what, I'll come with you when you tell the captain tomorrow. Will that help?"

"A bit, actually. Thanks."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see her smile. "Alright, I'm gonna head back to my tent and get some sleep. See you tomorrow."

"…yeah," Guy almost didn't want her to go, but had absolutely no idea how to express that. "Uh, good night then."

* * *

Finishing the letter he was asked to write, Guy handed it to Captain Branta for review, "How's that look?"

Taking the paper, the old warrior gave it a once over, "Plain speech, asks pretty directly what the whole deal with the King's assassination was...you sure you don't have some kind of code from that old army of yours that this Grant would recognize?"

Guy shook his head, "Some others might have had something, but I wasn't in intelligence. I just fought."

"But you're close enough to him to expect an answer to this?"

"Yeah," the Sacaen nodded, "Grant was always sending me and M...my partner on special missions of sorts, so we worked pretty closely. Just send the letter from Guy of the Kutolah to Tactician Grant, if he gets it he'll reply."

Branta grudgingly nodded, "Big if, but it's the best we've got. I hope we get a reply soon, since a clear answer will go a long way to helping us decide what to do..." the captain paused a moment then asked again, "and you're sure he'll tell you the truth."

"Yes." Guy confirmed, "Grant would never engage in tactics like this. Sure, sometimes he sent me and my partner to go sneak around the battle and cut down the enemy commander from the rear, but it was always a fight against an armed target ON a battlefield. Not...poison during peace talks."

Piet, who had stayed largely quiet, looked up at that, "What exactly is the difference? Assassination is assassination, the methods are irrelevant."

Guy didn't need to try and explain as Branta did it for him, "Not to soldiers. The difference is expectation of safety. If you're an enemy combatant on a battlefield, even if you're in the rear away from the heavy fighting, you have none. If you die, by any means, it's your own fault. But sitting at home in your castle, with no active battle in the area even if there is a war going on, you have some reason to expect you won't suddenly be killed."

"Semantics." The weary bishop shook his head.

"Maybe," Branta shrugged, "but for fighting men, important ones."

"Is there anything else?" Guy asked his captain.

"Not right now. We're breaking the news tonight, so just stick to the daily routine until then."

"Yes sir." Guy nodded and left the command tent.

After he was out, he breathed a sigh of relief. There had been an almost palpable aura of depression around Piet, one which Guy was happy to escape. Thinking about it, he realized it shouldn't surprise him to see how the holy man was reacting to the news that they could well be working for someone just as corrupt as what they fought against. _I can just imagine how Lucius would react. He'd be shattered. _

Picking up the pace, he jogged over to where Cauld and Terrace were likely waiting for him. _We're just reserve right now, so let's fit as much training in as we can before the next battle._

* * *

*THUNK*

*THUNK*

Aerie's second hatchet slammed into the wooden target less then an inch from where her first had landed. She was honestly wishing they were about to go into a fight today, her aim always was better when she was upset.

"Wow, two almost bullseyes at twenty steps. That's...almost as accurate as us."

"At less then a quarter of the range."

The heroine let out a clearly audible long suffering sigh as the girls who were swiftly becoming her least favorite pair of people in existence decided to make themselves present.

Without turning to look at Noah and Teal, Aerie walked up to the target to collect her axes, "Shall we go to the pells and see if you two do even a quarter as well as I do in melee?"

As was their custom any time she managed to get the upper hand in wordplay, the twins just ignored her comment entirely. "Soooo," Noah prodded, "what's eating you?"

"Yeah," Teal added, "you only throw like this when you're angry."

Aerie ignored them in hopes that they would go away. Branta was back in charge off the field now, so she could no longer threaten them with unpleasant duty slots if they didn't knock it off.

"Oh, wait, I bet I know," Noah answered her own question, "struck out with Guy last night, huh?"

As Teal laughed, Aerie turned and fixed them both with the most stone cold glare she could manage, "What."

"Saw you leaving his tent last night," Teal used her best sing-song tone to taunt, "you didn't look too happy. Your night not go as planned?"

Closing her eyes, Aerie tried very hard to come up with good reasons not to beat the living snot out of her teammates. She had never gotten on that well with them, but ever since her promotion it was like they were actively trying to make her life a living hell. Taking a deep breath, she kept telling herself that not choking them to death made her the mature one and them the little twits, and that she should be satisfied with that. "I did not," she told them in a steely tone that she hoped would get across how thin the ice they were on was, "strike out."

"...oh." Teal's voice lost it's teasing tone and almost became sympathetic for a moment.

Confused, Aerie opened her eyes in time to see Noah wincing a bit before saying, "Short performance then, huh? Yeah, that'd have me in a bad mood too."

Aerie resisted the urge to go slam her head into the nearest hard object. _...they assumed...I...Light above they took that completely the wrong way. _

"Who would have thought it," Noah continued, "I mean Guy's got so much energy..."

"NO! It wasn't like that at all," Aerie blurted out, "we were just talking! I didn't 'strike out' because that's not why I was there in the first place!"

The sympathy the twins seemed to be feeling melted away instantly, and they both grinned again. "Uhuh," Teal smirked knowingly, "Sure it wasn't."

"...are you two actually here to practice, or just to annoy me?" Aerie decided she'd had enough and threatened to pull rank before she lost her temper and told them why she was upset before Branta officially broke the news, "because if it's the latter, I can FIND something productive for you to do."

Sharing a look, the twins picked up their bows and went over to the archery targets without another word. They'd learned that when Aerie said productive, she meant the monotonous chore work that nobody really wanted to do but needed to get done anyway.

Taking her axes, the heroine left the other girls to practice as she went to go find somewhere else to cool off. Which was now even more needed as their teasing had hit a little more home then she'd have liked. _Look at me, can dish out the teasing but can't take it any more then Guy can. ...or at least not from those two._

She did like Guy, she wasn't going to pretend otherwise. If he was interested in her...maybe she wouldn't mind trying to see if they could be more then just friends. But now wasn't the time for that. _Maybe after the war is over. Romance is for peacetime, not the middle of a battlefield. _

Almost by instinct Aerie had wandered over to where they'd set up the pells, and smiled as she saw Cauld hard at work practicing the techniques Guy had been trying to teach him. Normally he wasn't one of her preferred people to practice with, but in the mood she was in...

Approaching the pells, she called out to her teammate, "Keeping at it I see. Good. Care to try your technique in a sparring match?"

Just as she knew he would, Cauld grinned in response, "Absolutely! How about we put a bit of a wager on it? If I win, you have dinner with me at a nice tavern the next time we get leave."

Aerie smiled. If Cauld had actually been paying any real attention to her at all that would have told him to retract his bet before he regretted it, "Sure. And if I win, you get Lem's latrine duty tomorrow."

Cauld winced, but nodded, "Agreed. But...why Lem's?"

"Well I'm the vice-captain, I don't have any latrine duty to foist off on you." Offhandedly offering the explanation, she walked over to the marked off area they used for sparring. "Ready when you are."

* * *

"Alright...wait, we don't have everyone. Where the hell is Cauld at?" Branta had gathered his company together to break the news, and wasn't in the mood for delays.

"Likely washing up," the pikeman Lem answered his captain in a deadpan, "he and I got swapped duties today, and he works slower."

"Then go tell him to hurry it up."

"Sir." Lem nodded and strode off to fetch the tardy swordsman.

Aerie did her best to keep a perfectly straight face, even as Guy gave her a searching look.

Nikras, who was standing right next to her, quietly asked, "Your doing I take it?"

"Mmmhmm. He put a wager on a sparring match. I won. You'd think after training with you for so long he'd learn that pressing my shield side isn't safe."

"Just clocked him with the shield then." Nik nodded, "yeah, he keeps forgetting that's a weapon as well."

Waiting a bit longer, Lem came back with a still wet but at least mostly clean Cauld behind him.

Branta snorted, "About time. Fall in Badgers, I've got news and I'm not repeating it, so listen up."

Everyone knew when the captain spoke he meant business, so the company fell into attention instantly.

"We've received a message from the Prince's forces." Branta began, "and let me finish before any interruptions. Cut me off before I'm done and I'll dock your pay. The message...is that the King is dead."

Those who didn't already know went a bit wide eyed and shared a few glances, but nobody was dumb enough to speak up yet.

"This might sound like good news, but it's not." The captain continued, "he was killed by poison. Assassinated during a peace talk."

"WHAT!" Dastan, the company's mage, blurted out in outrage, "What do you me…"

"Not done yet." Branta cut him off harshly, and the mage snapped his mouth shut. "I don't like this any more then the rest of you, but I refuse to break contract. And there's still the chance this was a rogue operative or the king's people trying to set him up as a martyr. We've got some messages out to people we can trust in the Prince's inner circle, so we're waiting to see what they have to say about this. If everything is what it looks like, then I'll have no intention of renewing contract at year's end."

"Captain?" Lem quietly spoke up, "Where will we go if we don't renew? I don't really want to work for the king...or his retainers at least, again either."

"Might take the Badgers to Lycia. We've got an in with Marquis Ostia, and if it comes to it I won't be afraid to use it." Branta sighed and then laid out the last bit of the plan, "Of course anyone who doesn't want to follow the company, either to Lycia or renewing with the Prince if this isn't what it looks like, is welcome to go their own way at year's end. Contract binds us until then, and I won't have the Badgers' name stained with breaking contract."

They were all professional mercenaries, so they understood. Clients being able to trust that you'd hold to contract no matter what was what got mercenaries work.

"Sir," Nikras broke the heavy silence, "may I recommend a course of action?"

Branta gave him a nod.

"Can we volunteer ourselves for peacekeeping duty? Bandit cleanup and the like?"

Piet, who had remained utterly silent during this entire announcement, finally looked up, "I...approve of that idea. No matter who, or what, our employer is, making sure the civilians are safe is something we can agree on."

"Good idea." Branta nodded, then looked at the company, "Any objections?"

Cauld shook his head, "Not much profit or glory in bandit hunting. But..."

"...at least we know we're fighting the bad guys." Dastan finished for him.

"We're probably one of the biggest moral cases of the merc companies, but we still might not be the only company making that request," Aerie pointed out, "so we'd better do it first."

"Handle it." Branta gave the order, and Aerie left the meeting to go do just that.

"Is that all, sir?" Guy looked over at the captain and asked the question he knew the new recruits weren't quite brave enough to ask themselves.

"Yeah. I want a patrol and a watch set, but the rest of you go blow off some steam."

"Right," Guy looked over at the twins, "You two had patrol tonight, right? Mind swapping with me?"

Noah nodded, "If you want it, go ahead."

"Thanks. Cauld, Terrace. Come on, may as well combine a patrol and a lesson."

* * *

The next few days were spent as they had planned it. Guy kept Cauld and Terrace busy and following his lead, Nik worked with Lem and Dastan, and Aerie and the twins kept themselves busy.

Part of what kept Aerie busy was requesting the orders the company wanted. But eventually she came back in with a grin, paper in hand.

Guy spotted her on the way in and breathed a sigh of relief, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yup. We have our orders, peacekeeping duty. Heading up to Deadwood Vale, there's been increased bandit activity there lately."

"That's an ominous sounding place." Guy fell in beside her as Aerie made her way to the Captain's tent.

"It's a town's name, if you can believe that. Can't imagine the people there are too cheerful, but they still need to be protected."

"And if they've sworn for the Prince, it's our job to do it." Guy nodded.

But Aerie shook her head, "That's the funny thing. They aren't. They also aren't sworn for the king. Basically closed their gates and drove out tax collectors from both sides. So they've been left alone. I think," she speculated, "that why we're going up now is that the prince's side is acting like all of Bern is his now that the king is dead and he's the rightful ruler."

"If soldiers from both sides have been avoiding the place, that makes it a perfect spot for bandits to hide." Guy figured, "Who knows how many have gathered up there, we'll have our work cut out for us."

"Good." Aerie chuckled, "The Quickblades were unusually heroic for a merc group. What they need is to be able to cut loose and go full force against some obvious bad guys. This is perfect."

"Yeah." Guy had come to like the former 'blades, even the rough and judgmental Dastan, "let's go give the Captain the news and get ready to march in the morning."

* * *

Deadwood Vale was about as pleasant of a town as they had expected. The people were dour, suspicious and superstitious. And those were the ones willing to talk to them at all. But they got camp setup outside the town's walls and Branta had a few conversations with the headman, and now a couple of the woodsmen were out giving Nikras and Aerie all the information they had on where they've seen bandit activity.

Guy was honestly surprised at how little damage the town and it's people had taken from the repeated bandit raids. But the wall was solid, the people tough as nails and more then willing to pick up their hatchets and boar spears to protect what was theirs. Still, the things outside the walls, the fields and a fair amount of the livestock, were in much worse shape. It was tight belts for everyone this season, but at least they were still alive.

Seeing that watches were already set up, Guy decided that he wanted to get started immediately and went to find the captain to volunteer.

"Need something?" Branta eyed the young swordsman and just addressed him directly as soon as it was apparent that Guy was heading for him.

"Yeah," Guy nodded, "I'm going to head out on a short patrol, get my own view of the area to compare with what the woodsmen are telling us."

The old warrior nodded his permission, "Take someone with you, I don't want anyone, even you, leaving the camp alone in this area."

"Yes sir." Having his orders, Guy turned and left to find someone who wasn't busy to take out with him.

* * *

"Any reason we didn't get the report from the locals before going out here?" Teal kept an arrow in her hand as she followed Guy through the hunting trails he had quickly picked out.

"Wanted to go in blind," he replied without looking back at her, keeping his eyes on his surroundings.

"…isn't that normally a bad idea?" Teal sounded torn between going with what she had assumed and trusting that Guy knew what he was doing.

He didn't really blame her, the twins didn't get put on scouting duty much so she wasn't too practiced, "Sometimes. Right now I don't want to have any expectations. So when I notice something, I'll see it for what it is, not what I think it should be from the intel."

"...you don't trust the report." She might not be a scout, but Teal was far from stupid.

"Basically." Guy admitted, "The town is in really good shape for having heavy bandit activity. And despite the fact that we're here to fight bandits, they didn't seem too happy to see us."

"Huh. Think some of them might actually be in league with the bandits?"

"Keep quiet," he finally cut off her questioning. "If there's someone out here, I want to see them before they hear us."

"...right."

Teal followed along quietly after that. But from time to time he could almost hear her opening her mouth to talk and closing it before anything came out as she remembered to keep quiet. _You know, there's probably a reason those two don't get scouting jobs._

They didn't go too far, but Guy knew they wouldn't have to before finding some sign of bandit passing. Not if the outlaws were actually attempting to raid the town. Sure enough, while they never ran into a person, he spotted a small trail that had been deliberately obscured by brush just off of one of the hunting trails. Teal never would have seen it, but Guy knew what to look for.

As he stopped to investigate the hidden path's entrance, Guy ran off a mental checklist of the signs. _All brown and green, not a single color that might catch the eye. Tight packed dirt around the bush roots, definitely uprooted from somewhere else and moved here. Check the back side of the bush that they might not think was noticeable..._ Guy smiled as he carefully inspected the rear of it and found a couple of threads clinging to the brush. _Gotcha._

Teal tried to poke her head back as well, "What? Find something?"

"Yeah. Hidden trail, probably not the villagers using it." He left the threads where they were, just in case they were deliberately placed. "Come on, let's get this back to the Captain."

"Wow. I would have walked right past that." Teal grinned and backed away from the bush, ready to head back to the camp, "How'd you find it?"

"Knew what to look for." Guy wished he could credit working with Aerie for how he found that one. But he was taught how to find a hidden trail considerably earlier then that. It was on the first trip to Valor, right before Matthew had gotten the news about...

He shook his head, not wanting to drag that memory up. The spy had tried to hide it, but even Guy had noticed how much of a wreck he was right after that. But Matthew had made Guy promise to keep it to himself, and forget it if he could. But even as he tried to set it aside, something occurred to Guy that he hadn't really thought of before. _Maybe...he never recovered from that? Maybe that's what was wrong with him the whole time. Why he...?_

No. He got his mind back on the task. Too late to speculate about things like that now.

"Sooooo..." Teal slid up next to Guy as they walked back to camp, providing a distraction he was actually happy to pay attention to at the moment.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Aerie," Teal's grin grew wider as Guy practically invited the question, "you know, together?"

"Uh...what?" The Sacaen blinked, suddenly no longer quite so glad for the distraction, "No..."

"Reaaaaally?" Teal pried a bit more, "We saw her coming out of your tent a few nights back."

"She wanted to talk about things, that's all." Guy was really hoping he wasn't looking as flustered as he felt, but he had the sinking suspicion that he was.

"Like what kind of things?" Teal's tone insinuated what she thought things might have been.

Guy wasn't really thinking at this point, and just responded with the truth, "The news about the king."

Teal stopped dead in her tracks, "Wait. Really? What? That was before the announcement."

Not quite getting where this was leading, Guy nodded, "Nik and I were told earlier." But as soon as he glanced back to see the look on her face, he realized that just maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

"...whaaaaaat?" Teal looked angry, "She gets promoted to vice captain over us and now you get privileged information first?"

"I was told early so I could keep Cauld and Terrace from freaking out once the announcement was made. Same for Nik with Lem and Dastan." Guy responded, starting to get annoyed with the twins' insistence that they deserved rank and privilege even though they didn't want the responsibility of it.

"Oh yeah?" Teal argued, "What about us then?"

"We figured you wouldn't freak out, so you didn't need someone to make sure you were okay," Guy responded bluntly, hoping she would take that as a compliment and let it go.

It partially worked, "I suppose. But I still say we should have been told if you were being told."

"Wasn't my call," Guy neatly evaded responsibility for the decision, and changed the subject, "Let's just get back to camp."

Teal let it drop, and they made good time back.

* * *

"So what's the plan?" Guy had brought back his intelligence, and that night Branta gathered the entire company together to lay out the plan for subjugating the bandits.

"If I may?" almost predictably at this point, Nikras spoke up to offer his own idea.

"You've had mostly good ideas so far. Let's hear it," Branta nodded.

"Thank you Captain," Nik detailed his idea, "They're certainly going to know we're here. What I'd recommend is to keep most of our forces hidden in the camp, use the same four or so people for scouting and watch every time until they make their move. Eventually, and I'll gamble sooner rather then later, they'll get impatient and send someone to try and scout our main camp out. They need info on us just as badly as we do on them. That's when we catch the scouts."

"Hmm." Branta mulled over the idea for a moment, scratching the scruff on his chin, "I like the idea, but if we don't catch the scouts we could be sitting here waiting after they've already got what they need. We'll try it, but I want some aggressive scouting of our own at the same time."

"Then you'll need to put the best we have on scouting and watch." Aerie pointed out. "And no offense to the new recruits, but with the exception of Nik, they're less seasoned and less skilled then the core Badgers."

Cauld and Dastan bristled a bit at the insult, but didn't try to argue it.

"Let me guess then," Noah piped up, "you want to go scouting with Guy while we keep watch."

Most of Guy wanted to stay well out of this, but the professional in him had to speak up, "Well I know that Teal on scouting is a bad idea. Too easily distracted. Don't know about you, but..." he trailed off and shrugged, hoping he wouldn't have to suggest that they not risk finding out.

Teal gave him an annoyed look, but Branta saved them the trouble of the argument going further, "You two work better together anyway. Right then, Dastan and Terrace keep day watches, twins keep night watches. They're more likely to come at night. Guy, Aerie, get out there and find something. Nik, keep people training when off duty, I'll handle dealing with people from the town. Any questions?"

None were asked, and the Badgers got their assignments. It was time to go to work.

* * *

"So what do you think of Nik's plan?" Aerie asked Guy as they stopped to rest for a few minutes during their patrol.

Guy shrugged, "It's not a bad idea."

"But you don't think it will work."

He sighed. He didn't want to be as suspicious as he was finding himself, but he had seen his share of bandit predations during the war against Nergal, and he kept comparing the state Deadwood Vale was in to those towns. He also kept comparing the attitudes of the townsfolk here to those they warned of bandits then. During the war, the civilians had always been so glad to hear that someone was on their side, that someone was doing something about the brigands. It could have been just because they had knights and lords with them then, but he wasn't comfortable chalking it up just to that.

"Well that's a long silence." Aerie prodded a bit as Guy was hesitating in his response.

He sighed again, "I...yeah, you're right. I don't think it'll work. I think someone in the town will tell the bandits all they need to know, they won't have to scout us at all."

"Hell of a thing to accuse them of." Aerie frowned a bit, not really liking the implications.

"Which is why I didn't bring it up. No proof, no real way to get any. Not until someone does something we catch."

Standing back up and cutting the break short, Aerie nodded, "Then we'd better find something first then. Let's finish checking this area today and tomorrow we'll use that trail you found."

Guy got up to get moving as well, "What if that takes us right to their camp?"

"Then we get out before we're seen and lead the whole force in to smash them apart later." She stated flatly, "Or if we are spotted, we kill the guards and retreat. At least gets them moving, which could get them making mistakes. If we could provoke them into taking the offensive, we could set a trap to win the whole thing in one encounter."

"That honestly sounds like a better plan." Guy noted as they got back to work, "Any reason you didn't bring your idea up?"

Aerie's response was as surprising as it was blunt, "Nik's bucking to replace me as vice captain and I'm letting him. And unless there really are traitors in the town, his plan is probably better then mine anyway."

Guy really didn't have anything to say to that, so he just kept quiet as they got back to scouting.

Four more hours of scouting out the area followed, during which they encountered nothing but a trio of woodcutters from the town who they shared a few rather terse words with. By the time they were done, they had found a few more hard to spot trails that Guy and Aerie agreed the bandits probably used, but none that were deliberately hidden like the first. Tomorrow they'd try that trail, and see what awaited them on it.

* * *

But before she was willing to do that, Aerie's sense of responsibility required her to clear it with the captain.

"You think this trail will take you close to where they're hiding?" Branta asked in response to her request for permission to scout it out.

"It's the most likely thing so far. It'll at least take us somewhere they don't want us seeing."

"Hmm," the old warrior considered for a moment before nodding, "Do it, but take Nik with you, just in case it turns into a fight."

"Uh..." Aerie balked, "Sir, if we take him with us, it will turn into a fight. He doesn't have the stealth ability that Guy and I do, if we take him with us, he'll be the one they spot."

"Hmm," Branta frowned, "I'm not comfortable with the two of you looking for the hornets' nest alone. Who can you take then?"

The heroine thought for a moment and eventually shrugged, "Terrace, maybe? He's got hunting experience, he's likely the best candidate."

"And the worst fighter in the company," Branta finished with a sigh.

"Honestly, even if it turns into a fight, the plan is to dispatch whoever spotted us and run. We can hightail it right back to the camp here with no problems, they have to already know where we are." Aerie argued her point, hoping the captain would give in, "we can handle this alone. And if we don't find much, it holds to Nik's plan better if it's the same two people out scouting as before. We don't have any guarantee we weren't seen already."

Branta grumbled for a moment but eventually nodded. "Fine. Do not engage unless attacked first, that's an order."

Content to leave it at that, Aerie nodded, "Yes sir," and took that as a dismissal, getting out and back to her tent.

It bothered her a bit how a small part of her was seriously considering deliberately breaking that order in hopes it would get her removed from her position. She was getting sick of being second in command, especially since Piet had gone so sullen after the news about the king's assassination. She had at least been able to get him to help before, but now he wasn't up for it at all. She was tired of the responsibility, tired of the idiotic rivalry this was causing with the twins, especially now that they were dragging Guy into it.

She could not help but roll her eyes as she remembered how Teal came to complain to her about Guy getting privileged information before they did. That was the whole core of the problem with them too, 'privileged'. They wanted all the perks of being in command without thinking about the responsibility involved. And no matter how many times she explained, they didn't, or wouldn't more likely, understand that. It was driving her nuts.

I'll just flat resign the position after this mission. Nik will make a better vice captain then me anyway, and he actually wants the job. For the right reasons.

Putting those thoughts out of her mind for now, she went to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be stressful, so she wanted to be well rested.

* * *

"See?" Guy pointed out the threads on the back of the bush, "I'd guess they were left there intentionally. Lets them know if someone came by and found their path, since most trackers would pick the threads off to look them over."

Aerie blinked, "That's exactly what I would have done, yeah. Where'd you learn that trick?"

"...old partner of mine. Was a spy." Guy replied as simply as he could, hoping she'd get that he didn't really want to talk about it.

"A spy? Like...a spy for your side, or turned out to be an enemy spy?"

"Spy for our side," Guy confirmed.

"Huh. Not a bad team up idea. He'd have the eyes and the cleverness, you'd have the fighting ability." Aerie speculated as they picked their way onto the hidden path.

"Actually he beat me in most of our matches." Guy felt obliged to point out, even though he'd really prefer to stop talking about it.

Aerie stared at him for a moment, "This old partner of yours sounds like one of the last people I'd ever want to cross then."

"That's about right, yeah."

"You sound like you don't like him very much." Aerie fished for a response, then shook her head, "Actually, I'll pry later. We've got work to do."

Glad the subject was dropped for the time being, Guy finished easing onto the hidden path and began to cast his eyes around for any watchers or signs. "Yeah. Should I take point?"

Aerie shook her head, "No, I'll lead. I track, you keep your eyes out for company."

"Got it."

The pair fell into position easily, slowly and carefully moving along the trail, changing directions when Aerie found shifts in the tracks while Guy kept himself on high tension alertness the entire time. It was a stressful couple of hours, but they made progress.

Stopping at the base of a large tree, Aerie called for a break and sat down for a bit, leaning against the trunk.

Guy followed suit, but made sure he was facing a different direction, "Lose the trail?"

"No, just need a short rest. They've used some old hunters tricks to hide the tracks, so it's taking more effort then I'd like to find them at points."

Guy nodded, then asked, "think we're close?"

"Probably."

Leaving things at that, they rested a bit longer...until Guy caught what looked like movement from the corner of his eye.

Keeping it in sight, he slowly and as subtly as he could shifted his position to allow him to bolt straight at the hidden figure, carefully studying it as he adjusted. Too large to be anything but a big dog, which would doubtlessly belong to the bandits if it was out here, or a deer. Or, of course, a human.

Planning his dash, he looked over the ground as well, figuring exactly how to approach at maximum speed. I'll have to jump that bush, no time to go around. That tree has a large root exposed, I can use that to kick off of for the jump.

Whatever the figure was, it wasn't moving on, nor did it seem to figure out that Guy had spotted it. Which was good, because as soon as Guy began to move it was too late.

With the same incredible speed that blocked the attacks of the Sword Demon, Guy launched out of his sitting position and sped towards the hidden form. Kicking off a tree root, leaping over a bush that was in the way and drawing his sword in midair, he landed easily and closed the remaining distance in a flash. The figure had started to run as Guy had made it into the air, but it was neither fast nor soon enough to avoid the Sacaen.

Behind him, Guy could hear Aerie scrambling to her feet and drawing her weapon, but she would be far too late to effect the fight. As he caught up Guy could see there was only one figure, and it was indeed human. It was already over.

One slash to the back threw their watcher forward enough that he tumbled to the ground, and before he could attempt to get up, Guy was on him, blade held close to the man's neck as he grabbed the bandit's jet black hair in his other hand, "So much as breathe loudly and you're dead."

The bandit wisely kept silent and did not even attempt to struggle.

Quickly, Aerie caught up and took the bandit's weapons away before addressing him, "Well, this well armed and in real armor...you're definitely not from the town. I'm sure you have some story about who you work for that doesn't involve the local bandits, but I don't really care. You have two options, agree to return quietly with us and tell whatever you know to our captain, or we can kill you here."

The bandit was quiet for a moment before croaking out, "I'll talk. Don't kill me."

"Alright then." Aerie nodded to Guy, "How bad did you cut him?"

"Not that hard," Guy looked down to check out the wound, "Looks like the armor took most of it, and the fact that he was running away from the slash when it connected probably helped. Looks like a flesh wound."

"Great. Let him up." Aerie grabbed the man's shoulder herself as Guy let his hair go, "and before you think about running, remember exactly how fast my partner here is."

The man nodded and slowly stood up, not trying to pull out of Aerie's grip at all.

As Guy got a better look at him, he nearly dropped his sword.

"What?" Aerie blinked at him, " What's wrong?"

But Guy couldn't pull together the words to respond. Black hair, pale skin, golden eyes. It's...it can't be. But...there's one more sign. I have to check. Shaking off the surprise, Guy lifted his blade and pointed it right at the man, ordering in a sharp tone, "Take off your armor."

Aerie raised an eyebrow at Guy but nodded to the prisoner, "Take it off."

Wide eyed at the threatening posture of the man who brought him down, the captured bandit quickly complied, though it was obvious the effort was causing immense pain from the wound on his back.

Once the armor was off, Guy gave another order, "Turn around."

As the man complied, he looked at the cut on his back in greater detail. Just as he feared, the blood was thin, lighter in color then a human's.

Aerie, not seeming to notice anything amiss, winced at the wound, "He's not making it back to camp with this. I'm putting some vulnerary salve on it."

Putting away her own weapon, Aerie pulled out the small pot of healing paste she kept on hand and applied some to the wound. He winced a bit at the sensation, but didn't try to run, he was entirely too busy watching Guy and his drawn blade like a terrified mouse staring at a hawk.

Guy was barely paying attention to Aerie or even the morph. He was entirely too distracted by his racing thoughts about what this meant. He's here. If morphs are here...that means so is Nergal. The encounter with Eagle, the message he gave them, all came rushing back to Guy as clear as day. Nergal lives. And he's here.

After applying the vulnerary, Aerie looked up at Guy again, "Okay what's going on? Do you recognize this guy?"

Sheathing his sword, but keeping one hand on it in case he needed to draw it again, Guy nodded, "...kinda, yeah."

And then he almost did a spit take at the morph's surprised and excited response, "You do? Then...please, tell me! Who am I?"

Looking between the prisoner and Guy, both of whom looked equally shocked and confused, Aerie made the only call she could, "Let's get back to camp now. We're getting the captain involved before we sort this out."

* * *

It was starting to remind Guy of being interrogated by Grant and Pent back during the war. Branta didn't know a thing about what morphs were, but damned if he wasn't dragging out every last little detail Guy had ever known, including a nearly full account of the war against the Black Fang and Nergal.

Finally the old warrior was satisfied, though it was well after midnight by now, "If this was anyone else I'd think you were lying or crazy."

Not entirely sure what to think of that, perhaps due to his exhaustion or the hour, Guy scratched his head, "Uh...thanks? I think."

"Hmph." Branta grumbled, "still doesn't explain everything though."

"Sir, there's some of this I just don't know how to explain." Guy shrugged, "I've never seen a morph that didn't know they were a morph before. To be honest, the few I've actually heard talk were pretty light on having personalities at all."

"Sir?" Aerie spoke up from where she had been listening to the entire account, "Considering how late it is, I think we should sleep on this for now."

"...alright." the old warrior nodded after a moment, "Guy, report back here first thing in the morning. If these things are the threat they say you are, I want your name in the report so it'll go to your allies in command."

Guy nodded, grateful for the dismissal, "Right."

After leaving the captain's tent, Aerie looked over at her partner, "So be honest with me here. On a scale of one to ten, just how much trouble are we in if this Nergal is still around?"

"Twelve." Guy deadpanned immediately, "Maybe thirteen."

"You...aren't joking about that." Aerie sighed. "What do you think command will do about it?"

Guy sighed, "If Grant gets the message...he'll commit whatever is necessary to finishing him off. If it's Vaida, she won't just let it lie, but I don't know what her priority will be."

"But neither of them have responded to the other message you sent yet."

He winced a bit as she pointed out the obvious, but then shrugged, "Maybe someone up the chain decided that some common merc couldn't possibly have a reason to send a letter to one of those two personally. It's pretty likely they never got it."

"So what if they don't get this one?" Aerie followed the logical line of thinking in her question.

"Then...I don't know what will be done." Guy was forced to admit. "I don't know who up the line will be making the decision. I don't know if that person will even know about Nergal and the threat he is. But I do know if Grant, Vaida or even the Prince himself find out, they will act."

"The Prince knows?" Aerie asked.

"Nergal tried to have him assassinated. We stopped it."

"Oh." Aerie nodded, "that would do it, yeah."

Guy didn't offer anything else after that. He was too tired, too in shock, and still too busy thinking about the entire situation. Wordlessly he parted ways with her and went back to his own tent. Lying down, the young swordsman stared at the ceiling of the tent in the dark, unable to bring himself to sleep despite his exhaustion. His mind simply refused to shut off.

The morph had been willing to talk at least, though he didn't really believe Guy when he was told that he wasn't human. His story was that he had amnesia, and fell in with a group of bandits when they realized he looked almost exactly like two other guys who were already with them. And one of said others also suffered from amnesia. Which leaves one that doesn't.

A plan began to form in Guy's mind. A reckless, stupid and probably suicidal plan. But he couldn't shake it. If we get ordered to pursue Nergal...I can't protect everyone.

He closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep. I may not have started the fight, or even been one of the ones in charge. But it was still my fight. I was there, I fought the dragon. This is my responsibility.

* * *

"You're WHAT?" Aerie was the first to blurt out in shock at Guy's proposal.

"I have to." Guy insisted, having stated his intention to leave after helping Branta write that report, "This is the same fight as before. Only Lord Eliwood and Hector aren't here. Grant isn't even here. But I am. This is my fight to finish."

Branta was quiet for a long moment before asking, "You're forgetting some things. One, we're in the middle of a job here, unless you're planning on leaving us without our best fighter. Two, the one you captured doesn't know where this Nergal is. Bern's a big place, just thinking he's somewhere around here doesn't help you much."

"I've got a plan for that, actually." Guy countered, having thought this out as best he could before bringing it up at all, "There are two other morphs with the bandits. One doesn't have amnesia. That one will know what I need."

Now the captain snorted, "What are you going to do, walk into the camp and take out all the bandits at once? Then catch that one and get him to talk?"

Flatly, Guy responded, "Karel could do it."

The line silenced everyone. It was the one thing that made Guy actually decide to do this. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Karel could succeed...and if the Demon could do it, shouldn't the man who beat the Demon be able to as well? It sounded a bit like arrogance...actually it sounded a lot like arrogance, but it didn't make it any less true. Guy knew Karel could do this. And he knew that he beat Karel.

Piet was the one who broke the silence, "That's...two birds in one stone. It completes the mission and gets him the directions he needs."

Aerie turned to glare at the bishop, "Don't tell me you actually approve of this? He'll get himself killed!"

"If he's right about the threat," Piet shook his head, "something needs to be done sooner, rather then later. And if we tried to help him, we would only end up in his way."

"Your mind's made up?" Branta eyed Guy carefully as he asked.

Guy nodded, "Yeah. I have to do this."

"No," Piet shook his head, "you don't. Even for your sense of honor, there is no duty hanging on your shoulders to require this of you. No one would think less of you if you waited for those in a better position to act."

"I..." Guy argued, "I can't just sit around. Knowing he's here, knowing he's close. Nergal is evil...and I don't use that word as lightly as I used to. He's the real demon, worse then Karel ever was. I have the ability to fight him. I've done it before. I can't turn my back on this battle."

"I didn't say you should." Piet offered a smile at the Sacaen, the first in days, "I said that you didn't have to. You have no such duty, but you choose to undertake it regardless. Not for glory, or reward, but because you do not wish to stand idle when you could act in defense of others. Don't devalue that choice by claiming it as duty."

Guy was silent. He didn't know how to respond to that strange praise, and was a bit embarrassed by it.

Branta let out a long sigh, "I suppose I don't have a choice but to let you go now. Or I'll never hear the end of it from Piet."

"Oh there is always a choice," Piet actually laughed a bit, "Free will is one of the first tenants of St. Elimine after all."

The captain groaned, "Ugh. Anyway," turning his attention back to the matter at hand, the old warrior stood up, "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. Vice Captain, get the company in formation. Leave someone to protect the gate...Nik, he can handle it alone."

Aerie blinked, taken off guard by the sudden turn of events, "Wait...we're leaving now?"

"You been paying attention girl?" Branta scoffed, "Get on the ball and get moving. I want the full force ready to march in fifteen minutes."

"Uh, yes sir!" Shaking off her surprise, Aerie darted out of the tent and got to work.

Guy couldn't blame the reaction, he was still a bit reeling from Branta's sudden shift in attitude himself.

Which the captain promptly snapped him out of, "You stupid too, boy? I said get ready to march in fifteen, why are you still in my tent?"

"Uh," Guy found himself blurting out as he quickly left the tent, "Yes sir!"

* * *

The Badgers moved through the woods quickly and efficiently. With their numbers, stealth was impossible. But that was fine by Branta, he predicted an ambush. Too bad for these bandits that they had no idea what Branta and his company did to ambushes. It was a good chance for him to see how the new recruits reacted to Badger tactics as well, he'd need them to step up with Guy about to leave.

They weren't the only ones though. Branta himself needed to make as big an impact in this battle as he could, impress some respect for the old badger on the recruits. Easier said then done though, the pain in his chest told him he shouldn't be out here at all. Piet warned him of it once the kids were out and scrambling to get ready, but he didn't listen. Just this once. I'll let Nik handle the brute squad jobs after this. But this time I need to do it myself. Wouldn't be the first time he fought through that kind of pain. And if he had anything to say about it, it wouldn't be the last. And as it would turn out, his axe had quite a bit of talking to do about that very subject.

As they moved, he kept his attention on the formation, making sure his people were where they were supposed to be, and making sure nobody took any missteps at this pace. He didn't watch the trees or even the road ahead, trusting his people to know their jobs. Guy and Aerie had point, along with Cauld. They'd catch anything forward before they ran into it. Branta, Piet and Terrace followed, the bishop insistent on staying by his side the whole time while Branta wanted to keep the rookie close to the healer just in case. Off to the sides were the twins, who had their sharp eyes turned out to catch anyone trying to move in that way. And pulling up the rear...was the only spot in the company Branta wasn't fully confident in. Lem and Dastan weren't bad, but he hadn't gotten their measure yet.

Whichever direction the enemy wanted to approach from, the company was formidable. Playing through the enemy's options in his head, Branta tried to predict what they'd do. If they were smart, they'd just scatter and melt away. Aerie could track some of them down from their camp, but not all of them. If they were cautious, they'd pull everyone back for one big pitched fight in a place of their choosing. Not a bad idea, but they wouldn't win it. If they were dumb...well then they'd split their force and try to get an ambush before pulling the main group in. All that would do is let the badgers mop them up in smaller and easier to handle groups.

Suddenly Noah yelled out a warning and starting putting arrows into a spot up in the trees as fast as she could.

As the Badgers turned to react to the threat, Branta had to smile. Option two or three then. Let's go see how much they committed to the ambush.

* * *

Bandits came pouring out of the trees and the undergrowth, in a quick count Guy could swear there were at least twenty. Looks like they put everything they had into this one.

It made sense, really. The bandits knew the mercs were dangerous, so why not just hit them with everything at once? Classic brute force solution, he'd seen it used quite often by now, the Badgers even used a variant on it themselves.

Instantly reacting to a large figure hurtling towards him from above, Guy drew the Wo Dao and sliced the diving bandit wide open in one fluid motion, even as he sidestepped the attack. I'd like to think our brute force tactics are a little less reckless then this though.

Shifting again to let Aerie dash past him, Guy hung back a touch before moving in himself. He was looking for two specific enemies, but they were hard to pick out in the press. Knowing the physical characteristics was one thing, being able to recognize them clearly in a large melee was another. Black hair...there. Guy noted a possible morph and moved in.

It was a strange way he fought in this battle, aggressively approaching opponents as if to cut them down swiftly, but instead keeping his mind on defense, parrying and avoiding attacks until he knew if they were the one he wanted. Then as soon as he determined that it wasn't a morph, he cut them down and moved on to the next.

Finally he saw the right opponent. Black hair, golden eyes, pale skin. Only thing he couldn't see was the blood, but he didn't need to. He had a plan to find out if this one was the one who might know something. Moving in swiftly, Guy parried the morph's attack, pressing in as close as he could before hissing out, "I know what you are, morph."

The bandit's eyes held only confusion, none of the surprise or suspicion Guy had been hoping for. Wrong one then.

A moment later the morph's eyes held nothing, the Wo Dao slicing through armor and bone with the same ease it did flesh.

The distinctive sound of a shine spell going off behind him almost made Guy spin around. But he stopped and made himself focus on his own task. Piet's alright, he can fight just fine and Branta's there. I have to find the morph.

* * *

As the blade bit in for the fourth time, Branta felt his life flashing before him. It was long, and bloodier then he should be proud of. He'd made a lot of mistakes in his day, done a lot of stupid things. Like going to fight when I damn well knew I wasn't in my best shape.

One of the slashes had been across the forehead, he could barely think and there was blood in his eyes. He couldn't see a thing...but he could still hear Piet throw out his magic, hopefully taking out that enemy before it could turn on Terrace or even the bishop himself.

His energy near completely sapped, the old warrior let himself sink to the ground and idly wondered if Piet was going to be able to put him back together this time.

* * *

The spell had knocked the bandit off his feet, but he recovered quickly. A lot more quickly then Terrace was hoping. This guy had just dropped the captain, and there was nobody else close enough to stop him from slashing Father Piet right open. Nobody but me.

Range was just too close for bow work. But Terrace had to stop this guy from getting to the bishop. He was just too good, and he was attacking with inhuman speed. There was only one thing to do.

Dropping his bow and pulling his sword, Terrace rushed the skilled bandit before he could move in on the bishop. I can do this!

* * *

Flipping to the next page of his shine tome, Piet almost dropped the book in horror at what he was seeing. Terrace, the youngest and least experienced member of their entire company, was rushing headlong at the most skilled enemy on the field.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he watched the scene play out, unable to interfere quickly enough to change the outcome. The bandit rolled away from the lunge and rose to counter. Terrace was fast, but it didn't seem to matter. Two swift slashes across the chest and the young man fell to the ground as his blood sprayed into the air.

The book was in hand, the page had been turned. Piet knew he had to remove the threat before he could heal anyone, so he let the bolts of light fly. Again they connected, carrying the bandit off his feet for a second time. This time as the man got back to his feet, he took a single step towards the bishop before thinking better of it and turning to flee.

Piet let him go. He had more important things to deal with then vengeance. Two allies were bleeding out beside him. The captain of the company and one of his oldest friends...and a young man with so much left to live for. He would try to heal both, but he knew he might not have the time.

Quickly drawing his healing staff, the man who was both holy man and mercenary made the only choice he could.

* * *

Guy winced as an arrow actually nicked his arm, but didn't let it stop him for long as he looked for the archer. ...there.

Rushing towards him, Guy was slightly amused as the bandit managed to block the slash with his bow. Which the Wo Dao neatly sliced in half. As he drew his blade back for a second slash, he noticed the bandit drop both halves of his now useless weapon and attempt to make a break for it.

Delaying his slash intentionally, Guy put a nice rip in the back of the man's shirt to scare him, then stepped back and let him go. He wasn't really in the habit of killing people who had stopped fighting, especially when it wasn't the guy he was looking for anyway.

Taking a careful look around, he saw Lem hurl a javelin after one more fleeing bandit...and saw the fighting mostly done everywhere else. Was he just not here? Or... Guy sighed, as it hadn't really occurred to him before that it was entirely possible someone else would end up cutting down his mark. He hoped that wasn't the case, as he wasn't entirely sure how to go about finding Nergal without prying his location out of a morph.

Near him, he could see Aerie looking around as well. She walked over to where Piet was tending the wounded...and suddenly swore out loud and called out, "Badgers, form up!"

Guy was on his way over there before she had even given the order.

What he saw when he arrived made him pale. Terrace was barely sitting up, face ashen and clearly not in good shape yet, but moving. Branta, however, was still.

"He isn't dead yet." Piet quietly answered the unspoken question, "The old fool has more spit in him then that. But...I can't promise he'll make it through the night this time. I need to get him treated properly, but these aren't the conditions for it. I need to get him back to town."

Aerie frowned, "Isn't moving him dangerous?"

"Yes," Piet nodded, "but not getting him to a bed and a place where he can be kept warm enough through the night would be just as dangerous. We could try to clear the bodies and get our camp moved out here...but it still wouldn't be as good."

Guy, along with everyone else, looked at Aerie.

* * *

The entire company was looking at her, and Aerie was reminded of one more reason she didn't want command. Dammit Branta, you would have to go and get yourself cut up. You better not die on me.

"Take a minute to tap anyone else hurt with your staff, then get him ready to move." She made her decision and gave the order, trusting her captain's tough body to handle the move better then his age to handle the cold and dirt of overnight in the woods.

Piet nodded, and Aerie gave him a moment to work as she got herself composed and thought about what to do next. When the bishop signaled he was ready, she gave her orders, "Lem, Cauld, you two are pretty strong. Feeling steady enough to carry the captain back without jostling him much?"

The pikeman nodded immediately, "Yes ma'am," while the swordsman took a deep breath first before agreeing, "Yeah."

"Good." Aerie looked to the twins, "You two go as well. Pull back branches, stomp down overgrowth, I don't care what you have to do but try to make the path easier for them. The less the captain gets shaken up the better chance he has of surviving."

The twins exchanged one of their infamous looks, but for once didn't try to argue. She was quite glad for that, she didn't know if she had the patience to deal with them being stupid right now. "Dastan," she looked over at the mage, who was in reasonably good shape still, "Run back to town ahead of them and tell Nik to have someone prepare a room for the captain. A good one. He has my permission to bully them into it if he needs to."

"Understood," he gave a sharp nod and took off immediately.

"Guy..." she sighed, not sure what to say to the Sacaen. She hadn't had an idea what to say since his announcement about leaving the company, to be honest. After a moment she settled on just keeping to the situation and giving the orders that needed to be given, "You get cleanup. I'm going with Piet as lookout and guard while they move, catch up with us when you're done."

Cleanup for a battle like this included the very unpleasant duty of making sure any enemies who fell are actually dead and not just dying or faking it. She knew Guy hated that duty, but he was too small to help carry the captain and Dastan was likely to miss something if she gave it to him, so Guy was all that was left.

Predictably he balked a bit, but nodded and picked up the sword of a fallen bandit to do the unpleasant job with.

"Um...vice captain?" a shaky voice caught her attention, "what should I do?"

Aerie fixed Terrace with a slightly annoyed glare, "You? If you can walk yourself, then stay with Piet and don't make your injury worse by trying to do anything. If not..."

"I can walk," he cut her off, insisting. And shakily got to his feet to prove it.

Simply giving him a nod, she looked over at Piet, "Soon as you're ready."

* * *

They had set up in the town, getting Branta into a spare room in the bakery of all places. The owner hadn't liked it much, but Nik did a bit of bullying and they got him the space. Now Piet was inside with him while the rest gathered outside.

"Did you find what you needed?" Aerie asked Guy quietly as she approached the group.

Guy shook his head. The second morph hadn't been among the fallen at all, which was a relief and a worry at the same time. "No, but...I did see one thing that you should know."

"Let me guess, that you saw some of the men from the town with the dead bandits?"

Guy blinked, "Uh...yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

She gave him a look that made him regret opening his mouth. "Because I'm the one who stabbed one of them, that's how."

Of course. How else would she know? Guy sighed, "Sorry, I'm just worried."

"About your morph?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She was quiet for a moment before asking what he knew she had to be wondering, "Are you still going?"

He'd thought about that himself on the way back. With Branta down, the Badgers needed him. But...Nergal was a threat to everyone. He needed to be here, but he needed to be out there more. "Yeah. I..."

"You don't have to justify it. I know how serious you think this is." She sighed, "Do you have any plan at all now?"

"Um..." Guy shrugged, "go find the one I know is out there?"

"Right. So no then." Aerie shook her head and walked towards the others...as Guy suddenly became aware that everyone else was looking at the two of them.

"Alright," Aerie addressed the company, "odd question here but did any of you see someone with black hair, gold eyes and pale skin? Maybe if they got cut their blood looked really thin and kinda light?"

The others looked at eachother to see if anyone had an answer before Terrace spoke up, "Yeah...I did. Well, I didn't see his blood. But he had the rest. He..." the young man shivered a bit, "he's the one who took down the captain. And me."

"Are we going after him?" Nikras asked in a level tone that Guy could tell was hiding a lot of anger.

Guy started to speak, but stopped as he saw Aerie looking at him strangely. Then the vice captain answered the question herself, "Yes. Yes we are."

"Good." Nik nodded, "I've let one man kill a captain of mine and get away with it. I don't intend to make a habit of it."

Guy wanted to interrupt, not entirely sure what was going on but feeling a need to clarify that this was his burden, not theirs. But Aerie just talked right over him again, "You'll have to let someone else take the honor though. We're splitting into two groups, and there's something fishy going on in town. We saw some of the town's woodsmen with the bandits, and that was a solid ambush. They knew we were coming."

"And you want me to stay here in the town?" Nik did not seem happy about that implication.

"If I'm acting captain again, then you get to be acting vice captain." Aerie smiled at her fellow hero, "Your team has two objectives. Protect the town, and find out just how deep their connection with the bandits goes. Keep yourselves alive, keep the captain alive, and don't let anything happen to the bishop. Got it? Do a good enough job and I'll let you have the position officially once the captain gets back on his feet."

"Aerie?" Guy finally managed to blurt out, "What are you doing?"

She turned to face him and smiled, an expression which did nothing to ease his feelings about the situation, "If this is important enough for you to run off on your own, it's important enough to help you with. And before you argue, remember that you haven't been released from your contract yet, so this isn't a request, it's an order."

"Run off on his own?" Noah piped up, while Cauld added, "Yeah, what's up with that?" Nik just raised a questioning eyebrow at the pair.

Aerie shook her head, "Ask later, you're either coming with us or can get the story from Piet."

"Fair enough." Nik shrugged, "How are we splitting?"

"I'll take..." Aerie considered, "Cauld and Dastan. And Guy of course. You get the twins, Lem and Terrace."

"Let me go too!" Terrace insisted, "I'll be fine by morning, I won't slow you down."

Guy started to protest, but again Aerie beat him to it, taking the words right out of his mouth, "No way. We're going after more then just the man who took down the captain. There's another enemy after that who's a bigger threat then anything we've faced, according to Guy. Bluntly put, you aren't ready."

"But..." the young man tried to find a way to protest, "I...feel like I should be doing something. I didn't manage to stop him before he got away."

"You were outclassed." Dastan pushed his hair out of his eyes as he spoke up, "from the sounds of it, the same thing that happened to you would have happened to anyone but Guy or perhaps the vice captain. Cut down in a flash. However," the mage added, "I believe there is something you can do. The vice captain will need a place to start tracking from before we can move out. Can you remember the exact spot where you fell? And where the enemy was standing in relation to it?"

"Yes." Terrace replied instantly. "I can."

Dastan nodded, then looked over to Aerie, "Excuse my presumption, but..."

"It's fine," she waved off the coming apology, "It's a good idea. But you don't come with us any further then getting me started on the track, got it Terrace?"

"Yes sir. Uh, ma'am."

"Good. Any more questions?" Aerie asked, then immediately added, "besides you, Guy. I'm sure you have some, they can wait."

Having been just about to speak for what must have been the fifth or sixth time just this conversation, Guy slumped a bit and shook his head. How does she do that?

"When are we leaving?" Cauld asked.

"Tomorrow morning, soon as we have enough light to track by. We're sleeping in the town tonight, treat it like a hostile environment and keep your weapons close. Nobody goes off alone as well." Aerie gave her orders, "Cauld, Dastan, spend the rest of today getting provisions ready. The rest of you are under Nik's command starting now, so if you want further orders, look at him."

As the Badgers split up to go about their business, Aerie finally turned back to Guy, "Alright, go ahead and make whatever arguments you've managed to think up about how you should do this alone so I can shoot them down."

"I..." taken aback by the abrupt confrontation, Guy decided against trying to argue. But he still had to ask, "uh...just, why? I wasn't exaggerating how dangerous this will be. I don't know if anyone else is really up for this. I...honestly don't even know if I am."

"Because we look after our own, that's why." Aerie shook her head, "we're not sure we're fighting for the right cause, we don't know if we can trust our employers, we don't even know if we can trust the people we're supposed to be protecting. Right now, all we have that we can be certain of is eachother. Call it sappy if you want, but that's how I see it. And you'll note the only argument I got was Terrace wanting to come too. I think that says it's the way everyone sees it."

As Guy quietly considered that, she smiled and added, "Besides, you're nowhere near a good enough tracker to pick out one set of tracks out of a battlefield and follow them fast enough to catch the guy making them. You can't do this alone. You need people to handle the skills you don't have, and people to watch your back. That's what a company is for, you know?"

"...yeah." Guy nodded. He did know, or at least he did now. "I...can I ask for one condition though?"

"Maybe." Aerie eyed him with a bit of suspicion.

"Let me tell Cauld and Dastan about Nergal. About what they're getting into. And if they want to back out, let them. I don't want anyone forced into this fight, dealing with Nergal is like something out of a nightmare."

Her expression softened and she nodded, "Yeah, go ahead. Tell them they have my permission to opt out if they want. Anyway, I need to go talk with Nik for a bit about what info he needs to dig up while we're gone, and how he's planning on getting it."

Guy watched her leave with mixed feelings. He had to admit, having backup made him feel better, and he was certainly glad for the company. But...they were getting involved because of him, and if anything happened he would feel like it was his fault. But by the same token...if any of them got involved in something big and wanted his help...he'd help, regardless of the danger. Making up his mind, he went to find the others, so long as it's their choice, then...well, it's their choice. And I won't take that away from them.

* * *

"Hmm," Aerie picked up the track again, taking them north and east this time, "Got it. Wish I knew this part of the country better, so I could make a guess where this is taking us."

"Well..." Dastan fished his thunder tome out of his pack, "It's not the best one ever, but I do have a map of Bern drawn on the inside cover of this."

"Really?" Aerie moved over to take a look at the map, tracing her finger along a part of it once she figured out about where they were, "This is actually not bad at all. Where you get it?"

Dastan shrugged, "I got a wyvern messenger to loan me his long enough to copy it. Captain Zaki didn't have one, and it just seemed the sort of thing a company should have."

"Well, good job there." Thinking about how their quarry had moved thus far, Aerie was able to make a prediction about where he was going, "He's trying to shake pursuit, but he's not putting as much effort into it as he could. Means getting to his destination is more important then getting us lost. Which, from how he's been moving, means his destination is somewhere up here. Probably...Vylard. Not a place I'm familiar with." Looking up, she addressed her crew, "Any of you know a town called Vylard?"

"Well, I know it's on this map," Dastan deadpanned, "but that's all."

Guy of course shook his head, but Cauld stepped up, "You said Vylard?"

Aerie nodded and all eyes turned to the young swordsman, "Yeah. You know it?"

"Not much..." Cauld shook his head, "but what I do know isn't good. It's the closest town to Fallen Giant Pass, and that place is said to be haunted. People go in, they come out crazy or scared pissless, if they come out at all."

"That's where he'll be then," Guy stated with certainty, "That's exactly the kind of place Nergal would set up. Our morph is running back to his master."

"Hoo boy," Cauld sighed and slumped over a bit, "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Backing out?" Aerie eyed Cauld.

"Nope." He actually laughed at the question, "After Terrace practically begged to come with you, you think I could go back there and tell him I chickened out?"

Guy laughed a bit, "I wouldn't blame you."

"Alright, let's get moving." Aerie began to lead the way again, "If we can, I want to catch this morph before he reaches Fallen Giant Pass."

Falling back into formation, the four Badgers continued their chase of the morph who brought down their captain.

* * *

_Author's note: Character introduction! Character development! Violence! Something that might pass for intrigue! This chapter has everything._

_Except brevity. it doesn't have any of that. I'm not really sure I have any of that at all lately. Oh well, if you're still enjoying it, then it's all good._


	18. Sword and Shadow

Chapter 16: Sword and Shadow

* * *

"This is your third visit in a short while," Bronson sighed as he entered the room where Matthew had been waiting for him, "Do you have another report already?"

Matthew, again in his guise of Maxim the bounty hunter, nodded, "Yeah, and this will be my last one for awhile. It's also the most important one yet, so make sure it's delivered fast and by someone you trust absolutely."

The simple urgency in his voice made the wyvern rider just nod in reply, "Very well. I'll have it go by wyvern as soon as possible."

"Thanks." Matthew handed Bronson the report he'd written up. It contained everything he learned from Lilac, what little she could add to the identity of the new morph maker, where they thought he was hiding...even who she was. He hadn't really wanted to include that last one, but Grant needed to know what games the morph maker was playing, just in case Matthew failed to take him out.

"Anything else?" Bronson asked as he tucked the report into a pocket.

Matthew stood up and shook his head, "No, that's all. And please do not discount the importance of this. I'm not exaggerating when I say Grant would prioritize this over everything else. This report contains the answers to the entire reason he hired me. Even Dame Vaida would consider this only slightly less important then protecting his highness's very life."

The rider's already serious expression grew a bit more solemn, "I understand. Don't worry, if the next messenger that comes in isn't someone I can leave this with, I'll deliver it myself."

"You have no idea how much I'm glad to hear that," Matthew offered the man a half grin, "Alright, we've both got work to get back to, so I won't take any more of your time."

Taking his leave of the rider's office, Matthew headed for the town's market where Lilac had gone to pick up some supplies for the trip. A small part of him, the part that was always a professional spy first and everything else second, was expecting her not to be there, to have used this opportunity to escape. But for once he couldn't take that part of him seriously at all. _If she was an enemy, she could have killed me in my sleep last night. Or during the fight. Or just run away at any point during the trip here._ He had made the decision to trust her, so now that's what he did. And it came far more easily to him then he should have been comfortable with.

Of course there was nothing about the woman he should be comfortable with. A puppet made in the image of his dead lover, somehow retaining powerful aspects of her personality and even shadows of her memories. She wasn't entirely Leila, but there was enough of her there to make Lilac simultaneously comfortingly familiar and profoundly disturbing. He was just making the decision to ignore that last part for now.

She wasn't hard to find in the market once he got there. The same cloak that made her so hard to see in the woods at night made her stand out like a sore thumb in the middle of a city street. Not to mention she was the only woman in sight that was openly wearing weapons without having a military uniform on. Though he couldn't see the contents of the bags the boy behind her was carrying, he did note with approval one obvious purchase she had made.

"I'm surprised you could find a headscarf in that color," he remarked, partly to announce his presence, as he approached. Indeed she was wearing a dark green headscarf, which neatly concealed her distinctive black hair completely. With that, there would be little way for even someone who knew exactly what to look for to tell she was a morph from a distance.

Lilac turned and half smiled, "I was too. Apparently dark green is a popular color for women in the Western Isles right now."

Matthew blinked a bit, "I wasn't aware they had fashion in the Western Isles."

"Neither was I, but the tailor was happy to go on about it at great length while he was mending my cloak."

Matthew chuckled, then looked to the boy carrying her bags, "So what are you getting paid for bag duty, kid?"

"Uh," the boy startled a bit, clearly not expecting to be spoken to, "um, ten coins and lunch. Uh, sir!"

"Yeah, sounds fair enough." Matthew slid effortlessly back into character as the bounty hunter as he looked into the bags, "Rations, spare clothes, camping gear...no climbing gear?"

Lilac shook her head, "Couldn't find anything good here yet, and I'd rather not get second rate stuff."

"Yeah I'd prefer not to trust my weight to anything but the best when I'm dangling a hundred feet over rocks." Matthew sighed. Fallen Giant Pass, according to Lilac, was in a very rocky area. And if they wanted to get in without being caught by the morphs that would doubtlessly be on patrol, they had to go in the hard way instead of through the easier paths. Good climbing gear would be essential.

The boy's eyes widened a bit, "Are you going after a badguy in the mountains?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded and lied easily, "army deserter, killed an officer on his way out and took out the scouts who went to bring him in. Real rough sort."

"Probably not going to get the 'or alive' bonus on this one," Lilac sighed, falling into the pretense just as fluidly as Matthew himself. Then she cautioned the boy, "Make sure you're a good citizen and obey all the laws when you grow up, okay? Don't want people like us to have to come after you."

"I will!" he exclaimed proudly, "I'm gonna be a wyvern knight and fight for the Prince!"

"Well, that's certainly a worthy goal," Lilac smiled and laughed at his enthusiasm before getting back to the task of shopping.

"Hope you like heights, kid," Matthew almost smiled as well. _She likes kids, huh? Leila didn't like anklebiters any more then I do._ But it was easy for him to tell that wasn't just pretend. Lilac's smile was honest, even though her pretense as a bounty hunter was not. The idealism and energy of children had always made Matthew a little tired, and reminded him of just how worthless the world considered most ideals to be. Leila had thought much the same way. But Lilac...then he did smile, _I guess she's not as jaded as I am. _

Setting that observation aside for now, Matthew pitched in for the shopping trip. If they were going to confront the morph maker then he wanted to make sure they had absolutely everything they would need before going in.

* * *

"This was last night's camp," Aerie announced as she picked some large crumbs out of the grass, "We're only a few hours behind him now."

"You can tell that from a biscuit crumb?" Dastan sounded a bit amazed.

"Sure," Guy nodded, "if it had been here any longer, some birds or mice or something would have made off with it."

"You sure about that?" Cauld joked, "I'd think even animals would avoid hard tack."

Aerie focused on finding the tracks to go with the crumbs, but called an answer back over her shoulder, "That's just it. It was still hard, so it had to be from this morning. If it had been even from last night, it would have absorbed moisture from the grass and gotten soggy."

"I see," Dastan nodded, "he bolted his breakfast and ran. He knows we're on his tail."

"He probably doubled back to see if anyone was following him once, managed to see us before we saw him and is now trying to make up the distance he lost by checking." Aerie noted, "And got it, let's get moving."

"Huh," Guy considered as he fell in beside Aerie to begin the day's chase, "not a very bright move. Sure it lets him know we're here, but lets us gain too much ground."

"How many people can you name that are good enough fighters to take Branta out that easily, and good enough trackers or scouts that they'd think of that?" Aerie asked in a deadpan.

"A few, but I get the point," Guy shrugged, "and I guess even the intelligent morphs we fought before weren't exactly good at tactics."

"So what are our odds of catching up with him today?" Cauld asked as he got himself ready to move as well.

"That depends. You two up for a few hours of double-time going straight into a dangerous fight with no time to rest?"

"If I plan on staying a Badger, then I'd better be," the swordsman shot back.

"Well at least I'm not wearing armor like the rest of you," Dastan sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes yet again.

"Let's go then. Pick up the pace Badgers, it's double-time until we catch our target." Aerie set the pace and led the way. The last leg of the hunt was on in full.

* * *

"So what do you know about that town near the pass?" Matthew asked as they walked along the poorly maintained road.

"Vylard?" Lilac shook her head, "Not much. I know it's one of a couple of towns our Creator has some sway over, but I don't know how much."

"Probably not a good idea to stop in there at all then. Even with a good disguise, it's remote enough that any stranger will stand out enough to be noticed by whoever's reporting to him."

"Yeah." Lilac agreed "We should head for the pass from the direction opposite the town, so we can be sure to avoid anyone from there at all."

Matthew had to find it funny in some ways, that despite his earlier determination, here he was working with a partner yet again. But at least this time it was someone who he didn't have to keep any secrets from, and who could keep up with him in almost every area. He and Leila had always been roughly even at almost everything, with one ahead in some areas while the other led in others. Of course Lilac had the usual morph problem of being a bit worse then a human for indefinable reasons, while Matthew himself had gotten better since Leila's death. But this still didn't leave her all that far behind him.

"Thinking about her?" Lilac asked softly, interrupting his train of thought.

"...yeah." Matthew nodded, seeing no reason to hide it from her. After what they'd already been through, even in such a short time, he was hard pressed to find a reason to hide anything from her. "Professionally, actually. The difference in our skills, things like that."

"Oh?" Lilac's tone became much more interested, "How do I measure up?"

"You...mostly do?" Matthew shrugged, "I'm not really sure why, but morphs always seem to be a bit behind humans at everything. You're not any different there. It's a bit strange, since your technique looks the same, there's no difference I can really see...but there's just something missing."

"Hmm," Lilac mulled over that as they walked, before just shaking her head, "one more thing to ask the Creator about I guess. So...when we fought, was that the reason you were so much better? Or have you always just been better then her?"

"Neither." Matthew replied, "It's just been awhile since...since she died. You're as good as she was then, and we were always about even. I've just been through some situations that forced me to improve since then."

"That makes sense." Lilac nodded, then offered a smile, "I guess I'll just have to try and catch up."

"If you can." Matthew pointed out.

She snorted, "What, you don't think she could close the gap? If she could, then so can I."

"It's...not that," he struggled a bit to put what he was thinking into words, but finally came up with, "what I mean is that...well, I don't even know if morphs can become more skilled. Can you learn and improve your technique? Or because you're created already knowing so much, is that all you can have?"

"I..." Lilac was taken aback by the thought, "I don't know."

"Yeah." Matthew nodded, "I've been thinking alot about how much I don't know about morphs lately. You aren't human, but how much are you really different? And in what areas? There's just too much we don't know. Too much that nobody knows."

"Nobody except the Creator," Lilac finished the thought. "I guess...there's even more we have to ask him then I thought."

Matthew nodded. He didn't like it. He didn't like that the only person he could ask about these things was someone he may have to kill. Someone he could state with near certainty Lord Hector would order him to eliminate. But they were things he had to know, for Lilac's sake as well as his own. Since making his decision it became obvious that he could no longer simply think of morphs in general as 'the enemy'.

It was a fact that was going to make doing his job considerably more difficult.

As they made their way towards the pass, Matthew and Lilac continued to talk about the things they didn't know, the things they would have to ask the very man who Matthew was supposed to kill.

* * *

The four Badgers were exhausted. Behind him, Guy could hear Cauld and Dastan doing their best not to pant heavily, and mostly failing. Aerie looked like she was fine, standing easily beside him, but Guy could see the small signs that she was nearly at her limit as well.

He...certainly wouldn't claim that he was fine, but he was in better shape then the others. Growing up as a nomad gets you used to impossibly long hours of fast travel, though he hadn't moved like this since the time his entire tribe packed up and moved to practically the other side of Sacae.

Slowing her pace, Aerie called a short break, "Alright, take a breather. Dastan, let me see your map."

Guy turned to take a look as well as the mage pulled out his thunder tome and just handed it to their acting captain before slumping down in the grass.

Aerie didn't say anything, simply taking the book and letting him have his rest. Opening the back cover, she looked over the sketched map, "Hmm. I...think we're less then a day from Vylard now, even off road and on foot."

"And the pass is a bit beyond that," Guy nodded.

"Yeah. So...we have to make a guess here. Will our target push on through the night to reach the town? Or will he avoid the town, make one more camp, and go for the pass tomorrow?"

All eyes turned to Guy. It was only natural, he's the one who knew anything about morphs and thus was the most qualified to make that call. That didn't mean he actually had any idea, of course. Just that he should theoretically have more of one then his companions.

"Uh..." he considered for a bit, "Nergal did take over the Black Fang, it's not like he tries to avoid people. The town is closer, and if he thinks he's being pursued he'd want to be behind walls as fast as possible. Maybe he'll tell whatever guards or fighters that are in the town that we're the bandits or something to try and get backup."

"If he's clever," Dastan attempted to peel his sweat drenched hair away from his eyes, "that's exactly what he'll do."

"So we head for the pass, then?" Cauld asked, "I mean he hasn't seemed to be that bright so far. Just fast."

"There is a difference between intelligence and cunning," Dastan shook his head, "A wolf is not smart, but it knows how to hunt. Likewise, a bandit knows how to fight dirty."

"Yeah," Aerie nodded, "I agree. We'll make for the town, which means I'll let you all rest a few more minutes then back to the march. If we can catch him before he reaches the gates, it'll be best. Otherwise we find him in the town."

"And if the townsfolk are hostile?" Dastan asked.

"We meet words with words and weapons with weapons, even if they are harboring him I don't want to start any fights unless they attack us first," Aerie answered with what wasn't really a plan at all.

It seemed to satisfy the mage, however, as Dastan silently nodded and went back to trying to get as much rest from their short break as possible.

Deciding to do something productive while resting, Guy turned to Cauld, "Put your hand on your sword. Don't draw it, just rest your hand on the hilt."

Cauld blinked at him, "What? Don't tell me you want to give a sword lesson after all that running? We don't have that kind of energy to spare, Guy."

Guy shook his head, "No exercises this time, just senses. Put your hand on your sword and close your eyes. Feel the air around you, tell me how I'm moving. Tell me when you know I've drawn my sword."

Complying, the younger swordsman closed his eyes and gripped the hilt of his blade. As Guy quietly moved around him, Cauld did his best to track his teacher's movements by turning himself. Guy was pleased to note that Cauld was only occasionally off, and never off by much.

Suddenly, Guy turned to look on hearing a sound, the soft scraping of metal against leather.

Cauld snapped his head that way as well, "There! ...wait. No, that's not your sword. Aerie, was that you?"

Aerie didn't answer, but laughed as she slid her blade back in the sheathe.

Guy couldn't help but chuckle as well, "That was actually impressive, that you could tell the difference between the sounds our swords make when drawn."

"Well..." a bit reluctant to turn down the praise, Cauld slowly admitted, "honestly I can't. I thought for a second at first that it was you, but that would mean I was way off on where I thought you were standing."

"And you weren't about to admit you were wrong, huh?" Aerie teased.

"Don't see why I should," Cauld snapped back, "I wasn't wrong."

"You were absolutely right," Guy nodded, "doesn't matter how you knew it wasn't mine, you knew it wasn't. Trust your judgment and act, no hesitation. And never believe your enemy will fight fair. When you heard the sound, rather then assume it was me because I was the only one you were supposed to be facing, you considered the option that the rules were broken and a second enemy joined the battle."

Now Aerie frowned, "Aren't you praising him a bit much there?"

Guy sighed and actually glared at his partner a bit, "Maybe, but I don't want him second guessing his good instincts in a real fight because of your teasing."

There was silence for a bit, and Guy was on the verge of wanting to apologize despite the fact that he didn't think he was wrong, but Aerie nodded and softly apologized herself first, "Sorry, that really was rude of me. I'll shut up while you're teaching."

"Wow," Cauld broke the silence that followed, "I'm impressed Guy, you really know how to handle her."

Cauld's life, or at least what small part of it he knew, flashed before Guy's eyes. He looked over at Aerie who was, as he predicted, narrowing her eyes dangerously at the younger swordsman.

"Well," her voice practically dripped with venom, "it seems that Cauld has recovered his energy sufficiently. Let's resume the march." She turned her back to the others and began moving, "Double-time Badgers, I want to catch our quarry before he reaches the gate."

Dastan, being the only one on the ground, scrambled to his feet as quickly as possible and shot Cauld a glare that bordered on the murderous as he rushed to keep up, hissing out, "I cannot properly express how much I want to electrocute you right now."

Guy sighed as he moved to get back to his position in the front. He still couldn't figure out why Aerie reacted so differently to Cauld and the twins then she did to anyone else, but at least she was consistent in her inconsistency, so he really couldn't say he didn't see that one coming.

Part of that thought bothered him a bit, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it until after they had been marching for a few minutes already, and the revelation almost made him trip and fall. _Wait a minute...when did I become one of the more mature people in the group?_

* * *

"So this is Fallen Giant Pass?" Matthew looked up at the mountains they were about to start scaling.

"Yeah," Lilac nodded, then amended, "well, the mountains around the pass anyway. We could go straight for the pass, but..."

"That would take us too close to Vylard," Matthew finished. "So how close to what he's using for a base in there can you get us before we have to leave the mountains for the pass itself?"

Lilac considered, "Fairly close. I was made in an old ruin, I think it used to be a temple of some kind, though not to Elimine. Some older religion that probably doesn't exist anymore. It's...I wouldn't call it right up against the mountains, but it's fairly close. Though...remember that I don't know if he's there anymore."

"Yeah, I know." Matthew nodded, "But even if he's not, getting to investigate where I know for a fact he was will help. I'll guarantee he forgot to clean up or cover something that I'll notice."

Lilac nodded again. It sounded arrogant, as she knew quite well how intelligent her Creator had to be. But intelligence and training are two different things, and a well trained spy will find things that even the most brilliant genius would miss. Especially when the genius in question has a lot of other things to deal with, like keeping track of who knows how many other morphs were out there.

That was what pained her the most, that she wouldn't let Matthew know. Not rebelling against her Creator, that was an easier choice to make then it should have been. He wronged her first, sending her to kill someone he made her to be in love with. It wasn't an unforgivable crime, but he would need one hell of a good explanation before she'd accept it. What troubled her was the idea that she may have to fight and kill other morphs. They weren't puppets to her, even the mindless ones. She didn't really know what they should be to her, but she knew that she didn't want them to be her enemies. _Siblings, maybe? Should I treat them like that? _

It was a thought, but maybe not the best one. She did know very well if any morph besides her attacked Matthew, they would fight to kill. And he would fight back, of course, also to kill. And then she would try to protect him, which would mean killing other morphs. She knew it could happen, she had known it since she made her decision not to kill him herself. But that didn't mean she liked it.

"You alright?"

Matthew's voice stirred her from her contemplation, and she offered him a smile, "Yeah. I was just thinking about what's coming."

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded and offered, "If you don't want to come, I can take it from here. I don't want to make you fight your own maker."

She shook her head, "That's not it. I made my choice, I'm just hoping there's a way to avoid fighting. Don't worry about me if it comes down to it, though. I will fight."

He gave her a careful look for awhile before finally nodding. "Alright, I trust you. I made my choice too."

She smiled, but Matthew didn't see it as he had already turned back towards the mountains.

"Come on," he started towards the rocks, "There's still some time before dark, we should get a bit more distance in."

_I will fight._ Lilac confirmed to herself, _but...not today._ Reaching out, she grabbed Matthew's hand as he was moving forward. "Let's...stay here for tonight?"

He was quiet for a moment before nodding, "Alright. We'll make camp early." Squeezing her hand before letting go, he set his pack down and dug out the supplies.

The simple joy that small gesture gave her told Lilac that she was making the only choice she could. _Whatever reason I was made for...it doesn't matter. It's still my life, and I'll live it for my own reasons._

That was it. That was why she didn't want to fight other morphs. She wanted them to have the same feeling, the desire to live for themselves, no matter the purpose they were made for. Because the more of them that tried, the better chances that one of them would succeed. And if any of them could do it..._then all of us can._

It was a cold camp, and a simple one. They ate a quick supper of cold trail rations and got ready to sleep. Lilac moved next to Matthew on the ground and curled up beside him, putting her head on his shoulder and draping one arm across his stomach. He didn't pull away, and she didn't try to move any further, content to simply feel his warmth beside her.

For now, this was enough.

* * *

"Stop right there!" Aerie shouted at the back of the figure before them. It was dark, but she had good eyes and the moon was nearly full so she could still seem him well enough. As well as the wall of the town beyond him.

The figure turned to look...then began bolting for the wall as fast as he could run.

Aerie winced. Shouting probably wasn't the best idea there, but she was tired, cranky and really wanted to get that guy before he got into the town. Putting as much energy as she could into her already exhausted body, she gave chase.

Only to feel something rush past her at a speed she could never match. _How does he have THAT much energy left?_

Guy moved, leaving the rest of them behind in a blink, closing the distance between himself and the retreating form faster then the bandit could reach the town. Normally she would think this was going to be over in a flash, but the image of Branta cut up like a weekend roast came into her mind and she knew better then to underestimate the man they were chasing, "Guy! Be careful!"

But of course he wasn't listening, so she tried to run even faster. Even if she was exhausted, she could still trip up the enemy and give Guy the opening he would need. The morph or whatever he was couldn't be in much better shape then they were, afterall.

Ahead of her, Guy reached the morph and slashed at his back with the Wo Dao. The man threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the attack. Coming up in a roll, he slashed wildly at the direction he was attacked from...but hit only air. Guy hadn't attempted to pounce on his target after he hit the ground, choosing to position himself between the bandit and the town instead.

If she had the breath to spare, Aerie would have breathed a sigh of relief. _He was listening._ Slowing her pace, she moved in carefully, catching her breath as she advanced to flank their target.

"You..." she could hear the morph stammer out, "you're...damn you people are fast. Fine, whatever." He stood up completely and took an offensive stance with the odd looking sword in his hands, "I'll just have to kill you all here then."

Aerie felt her heart move up into her throat. She was fairly good at figuring out bluffs and boasts, but there was none of that in his voice. Whoever this man was, he truly believed that he could beat all four of them without issues. People with that kind of attitude were usually crazy. But sometimes...she couldn't help but think of the captain again. Sometimes they were perfectly sane.

Guy, for whatever reason, didn't seem to be impressed. Without a trace of fear or even anger in his voice, he dismissed the claim, "Not likely. I've beaten stronger morphs then you."

"...so I wasn't imagining things. I did hear that word back then." The morph sighed, "Well now I really have to kill you. I won't let you go even if you beg."

"Strong words from the one who's been doing all the running," Cauld growled out as he finally caught up to Aerie's position.

Not willing to take a chance, she held a hand out to stop his further advance, "Let Guy take the lead."

The swordsman stopped moving and nodded, "Right."

Aerie almost laughed. _At least he listens in a fight._ She could hear Dastan moving up behind her as well, but didn't need to tell him anything, so she kept her attention on Guy and the morph.

"Heh," the morph actually laughed, "thanks for telling me your strategy."

Guy was still quiet, but now Aerie couldn't help but smirk, "Doesn't matter if you know it or not. Sure, he's our best fighter. But if you turn to face us, you'll die instantly. We've got you surrounded, so your options are limited. Stay where you are and our mage will drop lightning on your head until it works or you attack. Attack us and Guy will cut you down from behind before you've taken three steps. Fighting Guy first is the only choice you have that might not lead to instant death," she could resist adding the taunt, "and even then your odds aren't looking good."

This was how the Badgers fought, the tactics Branta had taught to her. Simple but brutal, take away the enemy's options until the only course of action they have left is to do what you want them to do. _Or pull something completely unexpected out of their ass, I guess. That does happen sometimes._

But the man before them didn't seem to have any such options. As Guy took half a step forward, he spun to face the Sacaen, playing right into their setup. "Fine," the morph spat out, "I suppose it doesn't matter what order you die in."

Holding the Wo Dao easily, Guy fell into a defensive posture. Aerie had fought with him long enough to know what that meant. He wanted to test the measure of his opponent before attacking for real, he wanted to see the skill that defeated Branta so easily. "Hey Cauld," Aerie quietly called to the swordsman next to her, "pay close attention. You're about to see what you might possibly be able to do when you grow up."

He snorted at her jab, but nodded anyway.

Following her own advice, Aerie carefully observed the two fighters under the moonlight, waiting for the first move. Neither showed any sign of the fatigue she knew at least one of them had to be feeling, but that was the only similarity. Their stances could not be more opposed, Guy's showing not a single opening in his defense, while the morph seemingly did not care about defending himself at all. His posture was purely aggressive, more like a berserker with a sword then any kind of swordsman she'd ever seen before. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Finally the first move that she was waiting for happened. The morph charged...and she couldn't believe her eyes. The speed his sword moved with was somehow faster they Guy's. Twice he slashed with wild strength at the smaller swordsman, but twice his blade was parried by the Wo Dao. That part didn't surprise her, though. It wasn't the fastest thing she'd seen him block.

Guy didn't attack, continuing his defensive stance, parrying more rapid blows from the superhuman speed of the opponent, before finally slipping to the side and watching the morph stumble past him, carried forward by the aggressive motion of the attack.

What he did next surprised everyone there. Guy sighed and shook his head as if disappointed, "So that's how you beat Branta. You have a Brave Sword."

_Brave Sword? That sounds...kinda familiar. Have I head that somewhere?_ Behind her, Aerie heard Dastan gasp. _Okay, he knows it. I'll remember to ask him later._

The morph sneered at Guy's statement, "Of course. The only thing deadlier then a swordmaster is a swordmaster with a magic sword. You may as well give up, even you can't match my speed with this weapon."

Guy sighed again, "Except that you aren't a swordmaster at all. The sword gives you speed, but you don't have the skill to control it. It doesn't matter how fast you are, you'll never hit me. Weapons like that are meant to be used to quickly overpower slower opponents who could kill you in a single blow if you gave them the chance, like heavy axemen or powerful sages. Against fast opponents with more skill then you..." he shrugged, "it just makes you miss more."

"What do you know?" The morph snarled, seemingly furious at the lecture. "I'll cut you down right now!"

He charged, using all the speed his blade could give him. Aerie watched as if the fight was in slow motion, a small part of her unsure if even Guy could react to that in time.

Rather then parry the attack again, Guy stepped forward into the charge, holding the longer Wo Dao before him, crouching and leaning into the thrust to give it the most extension that he could.

Unable to stop his magically enhanced momentum in time, the morph neatly impaled himself, the speed of the charge and sharpness of the Wo Dao causing it to slide right through his chest as easily as a knife through hot wax.

He swung as well, of course. But Guy's crouching position plus the shock of being suddenly stabbed through the chest caused the attack to go wide. And it was the last attack he would get, as Guy quickly wrenched the Wo Dao, tearing it free of the morph's body, right through his side.

"Woah..." Cauld breathed out beside her, taken by surprise by the sudden end of the fight.

Aerie had to admit she was nearly as shocked. But she didn't have the time to be stunned, since she had a job to do. Moving forward, she impaled the cut open morph with her own sword, making sure he was completely dead. This time she wouldn't ask Guy to take on that duty.

Guy sighed and cleaned off the Wo Dao before sliding it back into its sheath. "I guess we weren't going to get anything out of him anyway."

Aerie shrugged, "Not likely. But we can look for information in the town if we need to. May as well push on into it and see if we can get some actual beds tonight. Any objections?"

Dastan came up beside them and bent to the practical task of searching the dead bandit for anything informative or useful, "None. But we should be careful. And...it looks like our bandit here had grabbed a few valuables before he ran. Aside from his sword, he has a magic talisman and a nice little red gem."

"Bag it all for now, we'll figure out what to do later." Aerie instructed, then thought a moment and asked, "Nothing else, no papers or instructions or anything like that?"

Dastan backed away from the corpse and called for a canteen for some water to wash his hands of the blood, then shook his head, "Not that I could find. If he had any orders he had them memorized."

Guy seemed to find something about that funny, as he almost chuckled and muttered, "This is a message from Lord Nergal...yeah, memorized sounds right."

She wanted to ask, but there were more important things to deal with right now. "Alright, are we all ready here?" Looking around at the others, Aerie was pleased to see everyone nod, "Then let's go see if we can get some space in town. Leave the talking to me, alright?"

The first objective completed, the Badgers moved on to their second task, and towards the gates of Vylard.

* * *

Matthew eyed the figure above him from the shadows of the mountain, waiting for the archer to look the other way. Minutes crawled by as he sat there, frozen in place, each second he was expecting the morph to notice his position and turn this into a fight.

But it never happened. Eventually the watcher turned to view a different direction for a bit, and the spy took that as his invitation to move. Quickly sliding out from his hiding spot, he moved around the corner without making a sound, getting himself out of the lookout's line of sight. Behind him, he knew Lilac was following, just as quickly and quietly.

It would have been so much easier to just sneak up there, surprise the archer from behind and take him out. But...Matthew stole a glance behind him at Lilac making her own way around the rock, and almost sighed. It would be easier, but she asked him not to. She didn't want to kill any more morphs then absolutely necessary, and he had agreed since he could tell how much it meant to her. It didn't really surprise him, once he thought about it. Leila was always less willing to resort to killing then he was, and he considered himself to be pretty soft about that for a spy. It only made sense that Lilac, based on Leila as she was and in such a vulnerably place emotionally, would want to avoid death.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, she smiled at him when she saw him looking back. It was stupid, but somehow that was all he needed to not regret agreeing to avoid the sentries.

Moving a bit further, Matthew looked around for any more watchers in this area before relaxing and sitting down to lean against a rock, "Let's take a break until dark."

Lilac nodded and sat down beside him, "Yeah. It'll be hard to use the climbing gear while the sun is up without being noticed."

Matthew considered how they should proceed. Moving through the mountains had been rough and very slow going, thanks to the number of watchers and how slow it was to slip past each one without being seen. "We may be better off moving closer to the pass itself. Stay in the mountains, but right along the edge, letting us move up or down as we need to."

"Maybe," Lilac nodded, "we're far enough in that we should avoid anyone from the town finding us now, even if we go down to the pass."

"Yeah, that was my thought. I'd really rather not involve normal people in this if we don't have to."

"They may already be involved," Lilac pointed out.

"Maybe," Matthew nodded, "but if they are, it's not me that got them involved. All I can control is what I do, if your maker mixed them up in this, it's on his head, not mine."

Lilac frowned a bit, "There's something that bugs me about that philosophy, but I can't put my finger on it. I just don't like it."

Matthew couldn't help but smile, "It means you're a nicer person then I am, that's all."

"Hmm..." Lilac eyed him, "I don't really like that explanation either. You're too jaded."

"Can you blame me?" As soon as he said it, Matthew realized it was the wrong thing to say. Sure it was the truth...but it would only depress her. Which he didn't want.

"...I guess not." As he expected, she went quiet after that.

He didn't really know what else to say, so they waited quietly for sundown. It was probably for the best to conserve energy anyway, they were getting close now.

* * *

With a bribe that bordered on outright extortion, Aerie had talked the town guard into opening the gate for them late at night. It was almost a waste of coin, as the town didn't even have an inn for them to stay at, just a tavern they were able to get sleeping space on the floor of the common room in. Still, the warmth of the fireplace was welcome, so they didn't complain.

Come morning, Aerie and Dastan had gone out to ask some questions, while Guy and Cauld were left to clean the common room, one of the conditions for being allowed to stay. He could hear the younger swordsman grumbling, but Guy didn't actually mind the work. Motion was motion, mopping the floor was as good an exercise as any to get himself going, and the steady pace of the work helped him focus.

The goal now was to kill Nergal, who Guy suspected was hiding in Fallen Giant Pass. But going in blind against an opponent like that was asking to die. Still, they didn't really have the resources to go scouting first, so it was up to Aerie to find out something here. Which made trying to come up with any plans before she came back a waste of time.

Guy sighed at how his logic had circled back around to waiting, but he supposed it couldn't be helped.

"You sure you're a mercenary and not a janitor, sonny?" The old woman who had started cooking that morning interrupted his thoughts, "This room's as clean as it's been since my back got too bad to scrub the floors myself. Lazy grandson of mine could stand to learn a thing or two."

"Huh?" Guy looked up, finally noticing that he had indeed finished his half of the room...and a decent chunk of Cauld's half. "Oh, are we done then?"

"Did more then I expected. Sun's not quite up yet, so it'll be a couple more minutes before the menfolk start coming in for their morning cup." The old woman gestured towards the back door with her ladle, "you boys go wash your hands and get yourselves a table before the rush, I'll get you some cornmush."

"Do you have any eggs?" Cauld asked as he gratefully set down his cleaning supplies.

"Only if you have coin. Some mush I can spare for a good morning's work, but milk, eggs or beer will cost you."

Guy nodded, "We can pay. Eggs and milk for both of us as well please."

"I'll get that sorted then. Go wash your hands and have your coins ready." The woman shuffled back into the kitchen, leaving them to get themselves ready.

Guy led the way out back, "Should we get anything for the others?"

Cauld followed along and shook his head, "Nah, they'll sort themselves. No telling when they'll be back anyway."

That was true enough, so Guy went along with it and the pair got themselves washed up and had a relatively pleasant country breakfast, doing their best to ignore some of the odd looks and occasional outright glares of the locals who were also eating.

After finishing, they got permission to use the tavern's backyard for some practice, and went outside to do some sword work.

As Guy set their things down, he could see Cauld looking at Dastan's pack...or more likely at the blade tied to it. As he expected, the younger man asked after a moment, "So...are you going to use that? The brave sword, I mean?"

Guy shook his head, "No."

"Why not? I mean, I heard what you were saying to that guy when you beat him, but you're skilled enough to control the speed, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Guy shrugged, "I'd need time to practice to learn how to move with it. I've only used one before once, and it wasn't in a real fight. Just seeing what it was like, before I gave it back to its owner. And even if I did take the time, it's not a better weapon for me then the Wo Dao. I'm already fast enough, I can do more with precision and a single perfect slice then with even more speed."

Cauld nodded, "Think Aerie will take it then?"

"Probably not," Guy shook his head, "it doesn't fit well with her defensive style. She needs her shield to be faster then her sword, the brave sword would throw her off balance."

Cauld thought about that for a minute, then surprised Guy by asking a different question then he expected, "You make it sound like it's not a very good weapon at all. What kind of fighter should use it then?"

"An offensive fighter who understands the difference between their own abilities and what the sword does for them, then uses it for fights where they know the extra speed will be an advantage, then doesn't for fights where it won't," he replied, thinking about how he saw Sir Harken use his blade in battle. Then looking over at Cauld, he decided to put his student to the test, "If we aren't going to use it, do you want to take it?"

The younger man was quiet for a bit, then shook his head, "With my skill now, if I use it I'll only end up using it like a crutch, same way he did. I don't want it to replace my skill."

Guy grinned, "Good answer. You should probably hold onto it anyway, though."

"Really?" Cauld sounded surprised at first, then thought it over and nodded, "I guess if I get in a fight that's over my head, it could give me an edge. I just won't use it unless I need it."

Satisfied with his answer, Guy got them started on practice, drilling Cauld until Aerie and Dastan made it back.

Once they did, the Badgers took a break to have a strategy meeting. By now it was a bit after lunchtime, so they managed to avoid the tavern's lunch rush and got a quiet table to themselves.

"Well," Aerie began before food had even arrived, "for a provincial town, the people here are pretty friendly. I think we were worried about them for nothing. They do think Fallen Giant Pass is haunted, but apparently a bishop of the church came through a couple months ago and is purifying the area. He sends some of his assistants back to town for supplies once a week, so they figure it's a long job but he's getting it done."

"Nobody seems to remember what the bishop himself looked like," Dastan added, "but two of the men who do his shopping fit the profile of a morph. I would assume this bishop is in fact your target."

Guy frowned, "Nergal is a hard man to forget...the bishop is probably just another morph."

"Adding one more layer to the deception," Aerie nodded, "yeah, I can see that. The good news is, the townsfolk are staying away from the place both on general principle and the bishop's orders. So I told the trading post owner that we were interested in heading to the pass ourselves to see if his grace could use some extra magical aid and got pretty clear directions to the pass, as well as getting a decent deal on some supplies."

"Magical help, huh?" Cauld chuckled, "I dunno, I've heard of some really good mages being able to afford three bodyguards, but were you really able to pass Dastan here off as being that good?"

The mage ignored his teammate's comment and continued talking strategy, "The road between the town and pass had been closed for sometime, but the bishop's men reopened it, we should be able to reach the pass in half a day following the same road. That does present the problem of running into guards, but I think we can either avoid or overwhelm any we encounter."

"The problem," Aerie kicked Cauld under the table before he tried to provoke Dastan again, "is once we reach the pass. Surely that area will be well guarded. We may want to think about moving into the mountains themselves to avoid any traps set along the road in the pass."

Guy winced, remembering his attempts to follow Matthew through mountain regions during the war. More of the memories then he'd like ended in him getting bruised up. "Uh, how tough are the mountains here? If they're bad, we'll need some rope and...what are those spikes called, that you use to make handholds?"

"Pitons," Dastan answered, then shook his head, "sadly, the trading post here is out, and they're fairly low on the list of priorities for the town's blacksmith. We can get rope, but that's all."

"That should be fine," Aerie shrugged, "I can climb most rocks bare without any problems. I'll go up first, down last, and carry the rope either way."

A slow smirk started to spread across Cauld's face, "I'll go ne..."

"Bare," Dastan interrupted sharply, "in this case, means without equipment. Not without clothing."

"So," Guy spoke up before Aerie could retaliate, "if the pass is that close, when do we want to head out? Now and try to move through the pass under the cover of night? Or get another night's sleep and leave in the morning?"

"...we'll compromise," Aerie stayed on topic, despite eyeing Cauld, "we'll get some sleep now and head out close to sunset. Lets us cover the road near the pass under darkness as well."

They stopped talking as food came out, then polished off some lunch and went to get some sleep until dinnertime. Guy normally wasn't the type to have problems getting to sleep, but this time it took him awhile. He couldn't stop thinking about the fight ahead. Nergal was strong, and he'd already escaped death once. Guy had no idea what the dark druid could have up his sleeve, nor how to combat it. All he could do was fight, pitting sword skill against magic and hoping this time his skill would be enough.

* * *

Lilac sighed a bit sadly as Matthew removed his hands from her shoulders. She had started giving her partner a backrub earlier to help him relax, without realizing how bad she needed one herself when he returned the favor. _I could stay like that all day..._

Reluctantly shaking off the relaxation, she got up and pulled her cloak back on. "I guess it is dark enough, we should get moving again."

"Yeah," Matthew nodded as he got himself ready as well, "I could wish we had more cloud cover, but we work with what we're given."

Lilac looked up at the sky, the nearly full moon providing far more light then was strictly necessary for the two of them to get around by. With this much, any sharp eyed morph, not just those with the same skills as the pair of them, would have passable vision. Still, she tried to put a good face on it, "Better then crawling around in the day at least. And my cloak isn't quite as good against rock as it is against brush, but I doubt even you could notice it from a distance so we just have to avoid getting close to anyone."

"You've got better eyes, so I'll lead the way and you keep lookout. I know the general direction at least, so I should be able to handle picking out the paths from here." He finished his own equipment check and waited for her, "Ready?"

She nodded, "Yeah. Lead the way."

The pair began to slink through the rocks, making their way closer to the road through the pass while not quite entering it, staying in the mountains so they could move up or down as needed to avoid detection.

It was a good plan, she thought. They moved in short bursts, slipping from cover to cover, stepping into the open only when she was sure nobody was watching. It was slow going, but avoiding fights was worth the pace. She had figured out how the Creator had set up his lookouts by now as well, so finding them wasn't difficult. A single archer or javelin thrower stationed in a spot where it was easy to see a far range around. The problem is that they weren't that hard to see if you know what you were looking for, which of course Lilac did. So every time she spotted the watcher, and managed to avoid letting the watcher ever spot them.

But as they moved, something caught her eye. Not above, for once, but below. Shapes moving through the pass itself...but approaching the side. She narrowed her eyes to focus on the group, trying to see how many there were and what they were doing. _It's...four, I think. And...no. Oh no. One of them is climbing._

"Matthew," she breathed out as quietly as she could, still knowing it would get his attention, "There are people in the pass. They're climbing into the mountains, towards us."

Her partner winced ,"Light be damned...how many?"

"It looks like four. And...they're coming from the direction of the town."

"Crap. Alright, stay here," he started to move ahead, "I'll go take a look."

_...if they're morphs...he'll fight them._ Lilac hesitated a moment, but made the only decision her conscience would allow, "No...I'll go. I'm smaller then you, I see better in the dark, and I have my cloak for hiding." She didn't exactly know what she would do if she was seen by a group of morphs...but being one herself she had more of a reason to be here then Matthew did. Maybe she could talk them down. She'd think of something.

Matthew balked, but after a tense moment he moved back and nodded, "Alright. But don't get too close."

"I'll only get close enough to tell what they are," she promised. _I just hope that's not as close as I'm afraid it will be._

Pulling her cloak tight about her, Lilac carefully moved towards the shapes that were climbing into the rocks.

* * *

Aerie eyed the rocks before her with a bit of distaste. Getting to the pass hadn't been a problem, though they'd had to kill a trio of morph sentries when they tried moving into the pass itself. Fortunately for them, Guy went from still to a full run faster then the only mounted enemy could swing into the saddle, and Dastan's thunder spell put a quick stop to the one that tried bringing a horn to it's lips. But now that they were here, it was time to climb.

Despite her earlier promise, she was relying mostly on her skill at scaling trees to help her climb rocks, and was a bit dismayed to find that they weren't nearly as related as she was hoping. _Still...can't let my team down. Hope we'll only have to do this once or twice..._

Tying the rope around her waist, Aerie handed her shield and sword to Cauld and placed her hands on the rock, searching for a good handhold by feel rather then sight. In this darkness, her eyes could play tricks on her fairly easily, but sense of touch doesn't care about how much light you have. Finding a grip, she took a deep breath, unable to put off the inevitable any longer, and began to climb.

It was impossibly slow going, but she prioritized care over speed and took the time to find a good purchase for each foot before moving the other, then the same for her hands. After what felt like an eternity, she reached the ledge and pulled herself up.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself...Aerie felt the hairs on the back of her neck start to stand. It felt like she was being watched. Quickly untying the rope from her waist, she reached for her weapon...only to remember that it was still on the ground with the others.

Mentally cursing, she leaned down to call to the others in a harsh whisper, "I think someone's up here, toss my sword up!"

Cauld began to comply, but Guy pushed past him and hissed back, "Just hold the rope!"

Fortunately she was able to react to the sudden weight on the rope in time, bracing herself instantly to avoid having it pulled right out of her hands. Even more fortunately, she was strong for a woman and her partner was rather small for a man, so she was able to support his weight fairly easily.

With the rope to brace on, Guy was up to the ledge in a fraction of the time it took Aerie, but even as he climbed she could hear movement behind her. Whoever was there realized they'd been noticed and was moving. She only hoped they were moving away instead of approaching to strike her while her hands were full with the rope.

As he reached the top, Guy practically leapt up the last bit, coming up on the ledge in a roll and taking off after the shape she could now see moving, thankfully away. She wanted to follow, but unarmed as she was, she wouldn't be of any help against any real opponent. Instead she tightened her grip on the rope and called to the others, "Tie the packs to the bottom and climb! Hurry!"

It was all on the others now, Dastan and Cauld to quickly climb and Guy to chase the enemy. All she could do was hold the rope and watch Guy move. Her eyes being sharper then most, she could see the figure moving with amazing agility through the rocks, but not nearly fast enough to stop the Sacaen from gaining ground. This would be over long before the group managed to pull themselves together to back him up.

* * *

He trusted her, but Matthew still followed Lilac as she went, staying far enough back that he didn't think she'd notice. He had a bad feeling about this, so he wanted to be close in case something went wrong.

His eyes weren't quite as good as hers in the dark, so he didn't see exactly what set her off, but he could see her start to run back towards him without any semblance of stealth clearly enough. But if that sight alone was enough to fill him with dread, what he saw next nearly made him panic.

A second shape was pursuing her...and gaining ground. If Lilac moved like the wind, whoever was chasing was a bolt of lightning. If that person caught her, it wouldn't even be a contest, she would be killed in the time it took him to blink.

_I...won't..._ he didn't even realize he had started moving, launching himself towards Lilac and her pursuer as fast as he could, though he didn't know if it would be fast enough _...let that..._ he closed in on Lilac with incredible speed, but the man behind her was closer still. Matthew drew his sword and leapt, doing the only thing he could thing of to save her life, giving the pursuer a different target _...HAPPEN!_

His attack, hastily launched as it was, still should have connected, should have killed. But the man he threw himself at twisted and parried the surprise assault with a slender blade, a blade that began moving for Matthew's own heart the very moment it had deflected his blow.

Using the momentum from his leap, Matthew threw himself to the side, hitting the rocks hard and rolling away. But in a flash he was back on his feet, ready to take on this opponent that all of his instincts were telling him would be nothing short of suicide to face in a fair fight. Even as he fell into a ready stance to try and take this man on, he expected an attack...which did not come. The man had fallen back a step, sliding into a defensive stance of his own. Matthew allowed a small amount of hope to creep into his mind. _I might still have a chance to get away. _

But as he finally got the chance to consider his opponent...Matthew's thoughts changed entirely. The man was small...surprisingly so for one who managed to parry Matthew's fierce attack so easily. His clothes were clearly of the Sacaen style, and the stance was familiar, though far superior to the stance like it that he remembered.

A horrible thought hit him like the blow of a hammer _...they made a morph of...no...his eyes._ The eyes of the man before him were not those of a morph, not even an intelligent one. They were darker, and held neither the emptiness of the likes of Limstella or Eagle, nor the strange kind of youth and eagerness that he saw in Lilac's. This man's eyes held nothing but a clear focus, a focus that was sharper then even the sword he held. His eyes told Matthew that when his sword moved, there would only be one strike, and it would be a fatal one.

_He's going to kill me. He doesn't..._ he had no more time to think. His hesitation left an opening in his stance, one that such an opponent would not pass up. The Wo Dao moved swiftly, with pure intent to kill.

Matthew frantically tried to dodge, but in a bizarre reversal of fortune for once he was the one that was too slow. In a last desperate attempt to save both of their lives, he croaked out as the fatal attack descended, "Guy, stop! It's me!"

* * *

The attack had come out of nowhere, and only by some miracle did Guy's body respond before his mind even registered this new opponent, turning aside the diving thrust aimed right for his neck and countering with a fast thrust towards the attacker's chest. But the man was too fast, turning his momentum aside and rolling away before Guy's blade could connect.

Falling back, he took a defensive stance to give himself a chance to see what kind of opponent this man was before deciding how to fight him. But the posture the man took told Guy that he may have just made a fatal mistake buy not following up immediately. It was similar to a stance he'd seen before, one used by a very specific kind of fighter. He was facing an assassin, and one both fast and skilled enough to not only launch an attack that should have killed out of nowhere, but dodge Guy's own counter with ease. A chill ran up the Sachem's spine at the realization. _One mistake...one misstep, and I'm dead._

In a fair fight, he knew he would have the advantage. But no fight remains fair for long. The uneven terrain, the darkness, either could cause him to leave an opening. The assassin's ally, the one he had started chasing, could turn back around and join the fight at any time, and they could do it faster then Guy's own allies could manage. _I have to kill fast...the longer the fight goes on, the more chances there are for me to mess up. One attack, that's all I'll get. I have to make it count._

Amazingly, he got the opening he needed. Maybe the assassin had underestimated Guy's skill, or maybe he was waiting for his partner to make a move. But for whatever reason, he suddenly left a gaping hole in his defense, one that Guy could not ignore. If this was a feint...then Guy was dead. He knew it, but he couldn't chance that he could hold out against two attackers long enough for Aerie to get there. He had to move now. Putting all of his speed and skill into a single blow, he brought the Wo Dao into an arc at the assassin's neck...

He saw the man move the dodge, but he was too slow. He couldn't move in time to avoid this killing strike. Guy began to feel relief inside before a simple shout turned everything into horror.

"Guy, stop! It's me!"

He knew that voice. He tried to drop the sword mid attack, but his hands would not obey, dropping his weapon in a fight went against everything he was. All he could do was force the Wo Dao down, changing the angle of attack and praying it was fast enough.

The sword descended, but missed it's target's throat, instead slicing open a wide gash across his shoulder and down the side of his chest.

Now as his opponent fell to the ground, so too did the Wo Dao fall from Guy's hands. "Matthew? I..." Guy saw the bloody mess he had just made of the last person he expected to see and couldn't think, "I didn't...I...I don't have any medicine..."

Oblivious to the danger of shouting in enemy territory, Guy looked back over his shoulder and yelled, "Aerie! Aerie, come quick!"

All he could do was wait for the others to get there...and for the first time in his life wish that his skill had not been as honed as it was. _Father Sky...please, please don't let me have...just...please..._

* * *

_Author's Note: Multiple PoVs! Secondary characters get more lines! Guy becomes logical as Matthew lets his emotions free! Cliffhanger ending! This chapter truly has everything~ _

_We're getting into the final stretch now, as our heroes meet back up for the first time since chapter 5. Hope you all enjoy! And please don't kill me for the cliffhanger!_


End file.
